


On the Road

by Efstitt



Series: Keep Moving [2]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Bad language shocker I know, Canon Era, Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kath doesn’t pass for a boy very well, Please somebody read this, Quarantine stories can go as long as I want them to, Road Trip, Santa Fe, Spot has an interesting past and it has to do with Jack, Spot is a self-sacrificing fool and we love him, This got way more complicated than I anticipated, Trains, Whump, hunger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 43
Words: 56,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23224060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Efstitt/pseuds/Efstitt
Summary: Let’s have a little fun, shall we? I need a diversion.
Relationships: Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly
Series: Keep Moving [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669846
Comments: 323
Kudos: 38





	1. On Our Way, Mostly

Pulitzer threw the bucket of water on Spot. Spot sputtered and gasped, pulling at his tied hands on the post. How long had he been there, he struggled to remember. A night, at least. 

“Where is he,” Pulitzer demanded. The other hands started to gather around as they came into the barn for a new day of work. 

Spot tried to blink the water out of his eyes. “I don’t know, sir.” He hoped Jack and Katherine were long gone.

Pulitzer dumped another bucket on Spot’s face. “You do know.”

“I swear, I don’t, sir.” Spot gasped again and shook his head, trying to get the water off. His back burned with pain, and he couldn’t feel his hands. “Please, sir, let me down.” It had been a while since he had been beaten this badly. He was so close to finishing his sentence he had been careful not to jeopardize it in any way. Get up first to cook? Yes. Take care of hands who got beat? Yes. Anything to just make it through. And now what had he done, he wondered. But Jack wasn’t going to make it five years, that was for sure. He’d had to get him out.

“Then you stay on the post until the end of the day,” said Pulitzer. “If you say nothing by then, you will be encouraged once again to remember.”

Spot lost his breath. “Please, no...” 

“Then tell me what you know.”

“Jack wanted to go back to the city,” said Spot. “He went back to New York, sir.” 

Pulitzer laughed. “There now, was that so hard?” He came closer and grabbed Spot by the hair. “Except you know that’s not true. If he wanted to go back to the city he would have done so after escaping Sing Sing. Think again, Conlon.”

Spot stared at Pulitzer but said nothing. Pulitzer released him, turned, and took the whip off of the wall and uncoiled it, giving it to a hand. “Oscar’s dead, Conlon. Ben shot him last night. Ben’s dead too. Jack’s gone. Katherine’s gone. Charlie’s gone.”

Spot’s thoughts whirled as he tried to understand, but still he didn’t speak.

Pulitzer sighed in frustration. “Give him ten more. I’ll be back at the end of the day.” He turned to go, but then turned back and watched the first crack of the whip. Spot jolted, trying not to scream, grunting as he strained his neck and pulled at the ropes tying his hands. Pulitzer smiled a little, and stayed, watching every blow.

Jack, Race, Katherine, and Charlie all sat for several minutes in the boxcar, catching their breath as it started slowly down the track, then relaxing a little as it got under way. No one said anything. Shock and exhaustion were enough for the moment.

Finally Jack laid down on his side, opening his arms to Katherine. “Let’s try to sleep, huh?” He winced as she curled up in front of him. As long as nothing touched his back, he’d be okay, he reasoned. And how nice was this, Katherine in his arms, as funny as she looked in boy’s clothes and hacked off hair. He bunched the edge of the blanket up for a pillow for them, and looked over at Charlie and Race.

“Charlie, can you sleep?” Jack asked.

Charlie shook his head, blinking back more tears. “It doesn’t seem real. Grandpa’s dead, and then I see him in my head. I see him sitting in the kitchen, and then I see him on the floor with blood coming out of his mouth. I want to tell him where I am.” His chin trembled. “I was gonna run our place someday. I know how, you know.”

Race put his arm around him. “That’s for sure. Your grandpa wanted you to, Charlie. He told me. But you killed someone now, kid, so whether you stay or go, you ain’t gonna run that place, right?” Charlie’s eyes spilled over as he nodded. “So let’s go find you a new place, okay?” 

“I don’t want a new place,” Charlie said angrily. “Oscar killed my grandpa. I want my place, not a new one.” 

Race pulled him a little closer. “I know. Come here. I need a pillow, okay? Lemme use you if you ain’t gonna sleep.” Charlie stared into the distance as he let Race put his head on his leg, and Race started to drift off.

“Charlie,” said Katherine, “your grandpa was a nice man. I’m so sorry about what Oscar did.”

Charlie turned his angry face to her. “Oscar and your father are the worst, you know that? I don’t need your pity. You know what? I changed my mind already. I don’t want to call you Ben.”

“Hey,” said Jack, “take a breath. Katherine ain’t her father. She helped me, remember? She’s on our side, you got that? Look what Oscar and her father done to me. You don’t see me blaming Katherine, do you?”

Charlie sat back. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” said Katherine. “Let’s get some rest.” She took Jack’s hand over her side and closed her eyes. Jack wished Ben could bandage him up the way he had before, but decided just to imagine it instead. He closed his non-swollen eye and let the swaying rhythm rock him to sleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

Jack awoke as the train slowed in the fading light. “Race,” he said. “Racetrack.” Race lifted his head and looked at Jack. They heard the shouts and banging in the distance, and Jack saw him understand. Race turned to shake the slumped over Charlie.

Jack shifted a little under Katherine. “Ben,” he said smiling, “time to get up.” Katherine rolled away but did not get up. Jack followed her, his back stabbing with pain. “You gotta get up. Train’s stopping.”

Katherine stretched and turned back to Jack. “So?”

Race and Jack exchanged another look as they got up. “Coppers,” said Race. “We gotta get off before the coppers find us. They’re searching the train.”

Charlie had woken up by this point and reached for his crutch. “Where’re we gonna go?” he asked.

“Wherever they ain’t,” said Jack. “Get ready. You want Race to carry you, Charlie? I can’t do that real good right now.” 

Charlie shot him a look. “I don’t want no one carrying me,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

Jack looked at Race and shrugged. “Okay. But Race is gonna carry you if he has to, got it?” He helped Katherine up and moved with her toward the boxcar door. “Ready to run?” he asked. She nodded nervously.

As soon as the train slowed enough, Jack and Race swung themselves down, falling in the gravel before picking themselves up and running to help Katherine and Charlie down. Shouts followed them as Race led the way through the maze of trains in the yard, ducking them around corners and between rails until the reached the now dark corner of the train yard. Jack paused, his bruises throbbing, wondering how in the world the four of them had made it out safely. Charlie really could spin around fast on that crutch, he had to admit. Jack tilted his head back and looked up at the night sky, gulping deep breaths.

“What now?” Katherine whispered.

Jack brought his head back down and looked at her. “Now we find a safe place to spend the night, ain’t that right, Race?” Race nodded, his mouth still open as he caught his breath.

“Like where?” asked Charlie. Kid sounded like a broken record, Jack thought. Jack shook his head, lifting his shoulders. He could feel his back bleeding some, and pressed the heel of his palm into his right eye.

“You okay, Jacky,” Race asked.

Jack nodded, remembering that Race knew his tell. “Yeah. It hurts,” he said. “I’m fine. Let’s go.” 

“Should we find a doctor?” Katherine asked. “He could at least bandage you up, and maybe give you something for the pain.” Jack and Race looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Yeah, Jacky,” said Race. “Something for the pain.”

Race hooted and then stopped as Jack shushed him. “You want to bulls to find us? Shut up!” Jack whispered furiously, trying to tone down his own snorts of laughter. “You’re sweet,” he said to Katherine. “We ain’t gonna find no doctor. Come on.” He motioned for Race to lead the way.

Spot woke up slowly in a haze. He blinked, seeing the barn wall and hearing the sound of work. Slowly he put his hands under himself and began to push up, gasping as he tried to get to his knees. He grabbed his shirt from the floor and tried to crawl. 

“You haven’t been given permission to leave,” he heard Pulitzer say. Spot slowly turned his head and looked up at Pulitzer, who sat on a nearby trunk.

“Please,” croaked Spot. “May I go?” His elbows gave out and his face hit the floor. He tried to push himself up again, less successfully this time. He half sat as he waited for answer.

“You may, in a moment,” said Pulitzer. “And I will ask you again. Where are they?”

Pulitzer stood and came over to Spot. Spot craned his neck to see his face. “I don’t know,” he said. He closed his eyes as he saw Pulitzer pull back his foot and place a well aimed kick to his chest. Spot fell back, his arms coming up to shield himself. 

Pulitzer towered over Spot. “You’ll be lucky if your sentence is extended only five more years, Conlon.”

“Yes, sir,” Spot half whispered, his arms still up, trying not to pass out.

“Get to work.”

“Yessir,” said Spot again, his eyes lowered. He started to move again, relieved to see Pulitzer’s shoes walking away from him.


	3. I Thought You Had It

Race pushed the door open with his shoulder. “See? No one’s here. You’ll be fine,” he said, turning to Katherine and Charlie. “We’ll be right back, yeah?”

Katherine bit her lip and nodded while Charlie gave Race a sour look. “I can help, you know,” he said.

“I know,” said Jack. “But you gotta work on Kath’s hair some more, okay? It’s a full moon. You got light.”

Charlie pursed his lips and glanced at Kath. “Okay.” He motioned for Katherine to sit on the dirty floor near the window. She gingerly complied, giving Jack a doubtful look as Charlie took out his knife.

“Be back soon,” said Jack, slapping Race on the shoulder. “Let’s go.” He turned and went with Race back into the alley, the abandoned house looking bigger in the dark.

Jack unbuttoned his shirt and sighed with relief. “Been rubbing on me all this time,” he said quietly.

Race nodded, peering out onto the street, scoping out the stores. “What’s it gonna be, Jacky, stores or restaurants? They got both.”

“Stores,” said Jack. “They don’t got folks coming in so early.” Race looked out at the street again and motioned for Jack to follow.

As the made their way to the back door of a grocery, Jack tapped Race on the shoulder. “You got a pin?”

Race stopped and looked at Jack. “No. I thought you always had one.” 

Jack gestured at himself. “I ain’t broke into nothing for over a year, you know. I ain’t even got these shoes more’n a day to hide stuff in. Where did you think I’d have a pin?”

Race gave him an exasperated look. “You run away from Pulitzer and ain’t got nothing like that on you?”

“Spot made me, dumbass. You got a lousy memory.” Jack’s voice rose a little.

“Okay, okay,” said Race. “Pipe down. Maybe we shoulda had Charlie along. We could just use his crutch to break the window in the door.”

Jack let out an exasperated sigh. “We gotta get something somehow. They ain’t used to being hungry.” He scoped out the alley and bent down to hand Race a short board. “Here, break this up and use it on the window. But we gotta be quick if we make that kind of noise.” He turned to give it to Race, only to find that the back door to the store was open and Race had disappeared inside. Jack moved quickly to follow.

“It was unlocked,” Race said. “Stupid assholes. Get to work, Jacky.”

“You got a sack?” Jack asked. “You always brought the sack.”

Race scowled at him. “No, I ain’t got a fucking sack, asshole.” 

Jack rolled his eyes. He glanced around and grabbed one from behind the counter, tossing it at Race. “Here.” Working fast, Jack grabbed anything within reach. “Is it full?”

“Shhh!” Race motioned. The floor creaked above them. Jack stopped moving, hand on a can of peaches. He looked at Race. Race pointed at the door, and they crept back outside to the alley.

Race pointed toward the street they had come from, but Jack pulled him back down the other end of the alley. He pointed with his chin as they crouched behind a trash bin. A woman and man came to the back door of the store and looked into the alley. The man motioned for her to stay inside as he came into the alley, gun drawn. Jack and Race froze where they were as he first went down the alley away from them, and then turned and came back. His footsteps echoed slightly as he came closer and closer. When it was clear he would find them in two more steps, Jack jumped up, pulling Race with him.

“Beat it!” Jack yelled. Race took off, sack in hand. The man stumbled backwards, giving a yelp of surprise as Race dashed past him. “Hey!” Jack shouted, bringing the man back around to face him. He lunged at Jack, grabbing Jack’s open tail shirt as Jack tried to spin past him. Jack yanked away, falling to his knees, but continuing to scramble away. The man lunged and grabbed Jack’s ankle, bringing him down near the back entrance to the store.

“Gotcha, you little bastard,” the man yelled. Jack kept pulling, scrabbling at the pavement, but got nowhere. He felt the man grab his leg, then pull his arms back. Jack cried out in pain as the man knelt on his back, and stopped struggling. With a triumphant look, the man hauled Jack up to the back entrance. “Got him, Elaine!” he shouted. Jack felt his heart start to pound and his hands start to sweat.

Elaine appeared in the doorway, having lit the lamps in the store. “Bring him in,” she instructed, Jack grimacing as the man pushed on his back. Jack stood silently in front of Elaine, waiting for her to tell the man to summon the bulls. 

“What did you take,” she asked.

Jack didn’t reply. It was a grocery store, so what did she think he had taken? What was she looking for? What did she want? he wondered. The man smacked the back of his head.

“Food,” Jack stammered. “That’s it. Nothing in particular. Just food.” He waited some more as Elaine considered his answer.

“Let him go, Stanley,” she finally said.

“You’re sure,” Stanley said, uncertainly.

“Yes,” she said. “Let him go.” Jack breathed again as Stanley released him. He looked at Elaine equally uncertainly. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can get it back. Well, some of it, probably.” He twisted his hands together. 

“You’re too thin,” she said bluntly. “And who beat you like that?”

Jack pulled his shirt closed and began buttoning it. “No one,” he said. “Can I go, if you ain’t gonna arrest me?” He began backing toward the door. 

“No,” she said. “What else do you need?” Jack stopped and looked at her closely as she got another sack out from under the counter. 

“Nothing,” said Jack. What kind of a trap was this? “Thank you.” He watched as she filled the sack with more cans. She held it out to him. Everything inside him told him to run, to not take it. It had to be a trap of some kind. He turned to peer quickly out the door to see if the cops were coming.

“Take it,” she said. “I don’t mind helping you run away from whoever did this to you.” Jack looked back at her as she placed the sack on the counter and backed away. He watched as Stanley went to stand by her on the other side of the room. Satisfied they couldn’t reach him, Jack leaned over, grabbed the bag, and ran as fast as he could back out into the night.


	4. Whoops

Spot raised his head enough to watch Pulitzer walk away, and then lowered it back down to the floor. It’d been years since he’d been beaten like this. He’d caused a lot of trouble at first before learning to get along and follow orders. He knew he could end up like this at any time, but had let himself get comfortable, he realized. He wasn’t staff like Oscar. He wasn’t in charge of the hands, much as he liked to think so. He was just as much a nobody as the day he’d come here, and always had been. He’d just become their yes man, he thought, the realization burning his gut. He drew in a breath and dragged himself into an empty stall. He thought of all those years of taking care of the other guys, but he knew it was risky for them to take care of him now, not with Katherine at stake. Pulitzer might think they knew something, and that would be bad for them, that was true.

He lay on the floor of the stall for some time, gathering strength to move and do what he needed to do. He heard the dinner bell ring at last as darkness set in. Do it now, Spot. You gotta do it now. You won’t make it through another beating. Spot pulled himself up, nearly blind with pain, and opened all the stalls. He made sure the horses were loose and the barn was empty before he fell to his knees again and crawled to the side door. He gazed at the post for a moment, hating it more than he ever thought possible. He’d hated it early on, and hated it when he’d helped guys like Jack later on. He hated it even more now that he’d found himself hanging there once again, after all of his work here, sunup to sundown, day after day. After all of his cooperation. He shook his head. No time to think Spotty. Move.

Spot found the board he had loosened up years ago as he had pondered his plan. He had been wiser, then, knowing this day might come. He felt for the package he had stowed there, wrapped in an oil cloth, and brought it out. He unwrapped the little box, praying it had stayed dry. For once in his life, something went according to plan, and he drew out a match.

He stumbled and ran, clutching his shirt in his hand, not daring to stop and watch, although he could hear the yelling for quite a while. The fire lit up the sky for miles as he drove himself through woods and pastures. This was it. Make it now or get yourself killed, Conlon. His back screamed for him to stop, an order he disobeyed for miles. At last he stopped in a grove of trees and buried himself in some leaves. He panted and heaved, closing his eyes at last. He’d done it now.

Jack threw the sack triumphantly on the floor in front of them all. “I beat that guy to hell and look what I made the lady give me,” he said. “We got enough for days.” He folded his arms in front of him and basked in the looks of admiration.

“Nice work, Jacky,” said Race, coming over to throw his arm around Jack’s neck. “See, I told you there was nothing to worry about.” Jack elbowed Race and grinned. Race gave him a knowing look as he went to grab another can.

Katherine got up and came to Jack, kissing his cheek. “You are wonderful,” she said. “I’ve never had canned food, and it looks delicious.”

Jack leaned back, giving her a funny look. “If you say so,” he said. He did a double take at her hair. “Hey, Charlie, I said to fix her hair, not shear her! Yikes.” He rubbed Katherine’s head. “You’re gonna need a cap, girl.”

“I did my best,” said Charlie, digging his knife into another can. “I ain’t a barber, you know. Grandpa cut his own hair. Not that he had that much. And she’s gonna need boy shoes, too. Them pretty girl shoes are gonna give her away for sure.”

“On it,” said Race. “I seen a secondhand store not too far from here.” He tossed his empty can aside and headed for the door. “I go alone this time, Jacky. Eat up.”

“Fine by me.” Jack grabbed an open can and poured the contents into his mouth. “Enjoy it, fellas,” he said, his mouth full. “No promises this keeps up.” He gulped everything down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He saw Charlie cringe, and grinned at him. Charlie rolled his eyes.

Jack went and sat by Katherine, taking her hand. “You sure you’re okay? You get enough to eat? You don’t wanna go back to your father?” He looked down at her hand and wondered at its softness.

“And marry Milton? No, thank you. I’ll live in an abandoned house and eat canned food before I do that,” she said, trying to flip her hair before remembering she didn’t have any.

“That can be arranged, miss,” said Jack, smiling. “But just for tonight. We gotta keep moving, you know.” He leaned forward and paused before he kissed her on the cheek. She nodded and smiled, and Jack smiled back before actually kissing her. He moved to her mouth and kissed her a little harder.

“I’m gonna be sick,” said Charlie. Jack turned to him, pretending to be startled that Charlie was sitting right there. “What, ain’t you getting enough attention?” Charlie rolled his eyes again and wiped down his knife.

Race burst through the door, a pair of beat up boots and a cap in hand. He tossed them to Katherine. “Get these on, now. I had to break a window. Sorry, Jack. We gotta move.”

Jack stood up and held his hand out to Charlie as Katherine changed her shoes and put on the cap. “Back to the train yard, then. Let’s go find a train before the sun comes up.”

He looked Katherine up and down as she stood up. “Not bad, Pulitzer. Let’s get some dirt on you and you might just look like one of us.” He rubbed his hands on the floor and smeared her cheeks. He stepped back. “Better. But keep your hands in your pockets.”

“Let’s go,” said Race more urgently. He picked up the sack with the remaining food and led the way back to the train yard. They quietly skirted around the trains until Race picked another empty boxcar. He pointed up at the open door, and lifted Charlie high enough so he could get a solid footing. Race started to climb up next, his foot slipping on the rung he tried to step onto. He fell to the ground just as the train jerked into motion.

“Race!” Charlie cried. Race leaped up as Jack and Katherine started to run alongside the train. Jack held Katherine’s hand, but her left boot fell off as they ran. She yanked herself loose to retrieve the boot as Race grabbed a bar and pulled himself up. He whirled around to reach for Jack or Katherine, but they weren’t there. Jack looked frantically from Race to Katherine, quickly seeing that they would not be able to catch up. He waved his arms as if that would slow the train, but gradually stopped as Race and Charlie disappeared in the distance.


	5. Katherine’s Walk

“Oh, Jack!” Katherine cried. “No!” She pulled her boot back on and stood up.

“Hush!” he said, coming quickly towards her, his hands out in front. “You want someone to hear? Come on!” He took her arm and they moved fast to the end of the train yard before Jack pulled her down behind some discarded crates. He squatted down, grimacing, and put his head in his hands.

“Let’s go ask where that train was going,” Katherine said. “I’ll go ask.” She started to get up.

“Oh, no,” said Jack, taking her elbow. “You look like a boy from a distance, but you ain’t fooling anyone close up. And you talk different from how you dress. No way. Besides, whatcha gonna say? ‘My friends hopped your train and we wanted to too?’”

Katherine smiled. “What, I ain’t a good talker like you?” she said, lowering her voice and mimicking Jack.

He grinned at her. “Not bad. But you ain’t a good enough talker to go talking to folks.” He watched the tail end of the train rumble down the tracks. “We just gotta follow it, is all.”

Katherine stared at him. “What, walk? We’re going to walk down the tracks until we find them?”

“You got a better idea?” he asked. “Let’s go before the bulls find us.” He stood up and started walking. Not hearing Katherine, he turned to find her standing by the crates. 

“What? Whatsa matter?” he asked. “We’ll find ‘em, don’t worry.” He stopped and came back a few steps. “It’s just walking is all. It’s gonna be a nice day,” he said, looking up at the sky.

Katherine bit back her tears. “We don’t have any money. Or food,” she said.

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Jack laughed. “We just ate! Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of all that. Come on,” he said.

Katherine took a breath and started walking, and took his hand. “I’ll take care of it too,” she said.

The sun rose hot. Katherine could feel her sweat trickling down her back as she tried to keep up with Jack. She saw him slow down for her, and kept pushing herself so he wouldn’t have to slow down even more.

“You okay? You wanna rest again?” Jack asked. Much as she hated to admit defeat for the five hundredth time, Katherine nodded and flopped down by the tracks. Jack sat on the tracks and kicked off his boots. “I wonder how far the next station is,” he mused.

Katherine hugged her knees and ran her sleeve over her face. How was he hardly winded, she wondered. Don’t be so stupid, Kath, she scolded herself. “What are we going to do if we don’t find one by tonight?” 

Jack shrugged. “Keep going until we do,” he said. “You ready to keep going?”

Katherine ground her teeth. They’d just stopped. He was a machine, surely. She opened her mouth but couldn’t bring herself to say no, either.

Jack nodded and looked down. “Yeah, we can rest some more,” he said. He chuckled a little.

“What?” she demanded. “Why are you laughing? Are you laughing at me?” She’d been trying so hard, too.

“Nah,” he said. “It’s nothing.” He picked up a pebble and threw it. “We just ain’t gonna get anywhere if we keep stopping. You ain’t never worked all day, have you. I mean, it ain’t your fault or nothing...” he trailed off.

Katherine was quiet. He was right. She knew men worked for her father, like she’d seen newsies on the streets, but until the strike and until Jack, she’d never, well, thought to care. It had never occurred to her or anyone she knew to care about the work they did. “I haven’t,” she said. “Is this what it’s like? I never really thought about it, although I suppose I should have, like the one time after Oscar beat...”

“Forget about it,” Jack interrupted. “No, this ain’t what it’s like. But never mind. Forget I said anything. You sure you wanna come with me?” he asked yet again. “I mean, I think it’s great, but it’s been a pretty easy day and it just looks like you ain’t doing so good.”

“I know what I want, Jack Kelly,” she said, voice rising. “Quit asking me that. I don’t want to be a part of what my father is doing. I want to be with you, even if you don’t think I can do it. I can. I just have to learn.” She stomped her foot at him. Maybe she was hot and tired and already worn out, but Jack certainly did not know everything about her just yet. She’d show him.

He threw another pebble and squinted at her. “You’re cute when you’re mad. And in that cap, too.” 

Katherine smiled at him. “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

Jack grinned and ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh yeah? You wanna back that up?” Did she. She moved closer to him and leaned in for a kiss. “Oh, that’s nice. I think I can walk another mile on that, can’t you?” Jack smiled.

Katherine laughed and stood up. “I think my kisses are worth two miles.”

”You’re on, Pulitzer,” said Jack, putting his boots back on. “Keep moving.”

The sun began to set as Katherine staggered next to Jack. She had done her best to match Jack for entertainment, telling him story after story once he ran out of dirty songs to teach her. She knew a lot of stories, that was for sure, and he seemed to like hearing them. She’d been shocked that he didn’t know some of the stories she’d told, so she pretended like they were obscure tales a nanny from long ago had told her. He’d even asked her to repeat a few that he really liked, a great compliment, she thought, but it also made her sad that he’d never heard them before.

Finally out of stories, they walked along in silence. She had never been so hungry in her life. Jack strolled along like it was a Sunday walk in the park, so Katherine decided that’s what she would do, too. She would. She blinked, her vision getting a little fuzzy, and she grabbed on to Jack’s arm as she tripped on a railroad tie. He glanced down, suddenly concerned.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You hungry?” 

Katherine hated admitting yet another weakness, but her stomach let out a roar. “I guess so,” she said a little ruefully. “Any ideas?”

Jack pointed to a cluster of houses set a mile or so back from the tracks, their lights starting to wink on. “Could be some ideas over there,” he said. “Or we could just find a place to sleep. That’s easier sometimes.”

“What is?” she asked, not understanding.

“Sleeping,” he said. “When you’re hungry. Then you ain’t awake to think about it.” Oh. She didn’t like that idea much.

“Never mind,” he said. “Let’s see what them folks got.” 

They approached the tiny town, seeing one little restaurant on the short main street. Katherine headed for the front door but Jack led her around back.

“Just hang on and let me do the talking. Don’t say nothing,” he said. She didn’t argue. He put her away from the door, in the shadows. Relieved, she collapsed to the ground and just watched him.

Jack wiped his hands on his pants and went and knocked on the door, stepping back down the step as a middle-aged man answered. “Yes?” he asked.

Jack raised his hands. “Just passing through. You got any work that needs to be done? My little brother’s hungry,” he said, gesturing over to Katherine. He waited, looking off to the side as a woman joined the man in the doorway.

“What happened to you?” the woman asked. “You cause trouble? Your face is all swoll up.”

“No trouble, no ma’am,” said Jack. “Just got beat is all. You got work? Please? Just need a little food for Ben here.”

The man eyed Jack. “You wash dishes?” Jack nodded, holding his breath. The man held the door open and Jack stepped inside. Katherine panicked. She did not want to be out here by herself at all. When would he be back? Maybe they should have just found a place to sleep, but no, Katherine, no, you made Jack go to work just for you. He’d walked all day in the sun too, you wretched girl, she reprimanded herself. Now look at him.

It got darker and mercifully cooler, but there was no sign of Jack, although the man had come out with some trash as she drew herself back into the corner. Katherine waited some more, then crept closer to the door to try to see Jack by peering in through the window. He had his back to the window, his arms up to his elbows in suds, scrubbing at the pile of pots and pans. Should she offer to help? She would. But no, they’d see she wasn’t Ben. She glanced around at the buildings next to them. Lights out, doors closed. If Jack could beg for work, surely she could find something they needed, somewhere...

Katherine had just started to move towards the other buildings when she heard Jack through the open window.

“Hey, mister, I got ‘em done,” Jack called.

The man came over to check Jack’s work. He grunted. “You think you can tell me when you’re done, is that it?”

Jack took a breath and looked down. “No, sir. I just thought you wanted the dishes done. You ain’t said nothing else.”

“You think that’s worth something, do you?”

“Just something for my brother. He’s real hungry,” Jack said. “Anything.”

The man stood there, not saying anything. “You don’t boss me around, you got that? You’re the one asking me for help, not the other way around.”

Jack rolled his shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair, nodding as he kept his eyes down. “Please, sir.” He glanced up. Nothing. “Please sir, I’m begging you.” The man gave his wife a nod, and she went into a back room as Jack twisted his hands in his shirt. She returned and handed her husband some food.

“Here’s something for your brother,” the man said, handing him a piece of bread with butter on it. “Now beat it before I call the cop.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Jack, suddenly tense. “Thank you. Thank you,” he repeated. He took the bread and pushed his way out the back door. He shoved the piece of bread at her, his face red, blinking back tears.

“Jack,” she said, as he stormed by. “Jack, wait, let’s share it.” She ran after him until he slowed down for her. She tore the piece in half and offered a part to him.

“No way,” he said. “I got it for you.” Katherine didn’t know what to do.

“Jack, please,” she said again. “Share it with me.” Jack didn’t meet her eye as he looked at her outstretched hand. He snatched the piece and shoved it in his mouth. Katherine took her piece and ate it quickly, never so grateful in all her life for something to eat.


	6. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hints at PG-13 sex. Nothing explicit.

Jack pointed the bank of weeds in the ditch, at the edge of a grove of trees not far from the train tracks. “This look good for the night?” he asked. Katherine had no idea. She had never thought about sleeping outside, not once. All she knew was that she was still hungry and more tired than she had ever been.

She saw Jack watching her. “We can find a shed or something if you want. But it’s warm out tonight...” he said. “Figured we’d ask folks for a shed only if it’s raining or something.”

She nodded, sinking to the ground near Jack.

“Come here,” he said, his arm outstretched. The walk seemed to have calmed him down. She moved in closer and curled up next to him.

She heard him suck in his breath a little, and she moved away. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry,” she said.

“Ain’t nothing,” he said. “Still gotta heal up a little, I guess. It’s all right, come on in close. I wanna hold you if you want me to.”

Katherine was quiet. “Of course I want you to,” she said. She moved in, more gingerly this time. “Jack, I’m sorry about getting the food. I didn’t know that’s how it would be. I never meant for you to do that for me.”

Jack blew out some air. “Some folks just try to cheat you no matter what. Or wanna see you beg. But dishes ain’t bad. I done worse for less.”

“You can’t be serious,” Katherine said, before she could help herself. “Less than that? Sorry, never mind.”

She listened to Jack breathe for a while. Was he asleep already? He hadn’t seemed tired. “You’re like a little newsie. A baby one,” he started, his voice quiet. “You ain’t used to walking, even, never mind working. I swung a sledgehammer from light to no light at Sing Sing. Walking ain’t nothing. You get hungry easy. You don’t know nothing about how to get food or money.” He finally stopped, his breathing a little more labored than it was.

Katherine was confused, but he didn’t continue for a long while. She waited.

“I didn’t know nothing till I was five. I went to get beer for my father one night, and when I come back he was gone. Landlord left me at the orphanage but they didn’t have no room. A day or so later a guy saw me digging through his garbage and said he’d hire me if I was hungry. He hired me as a climbing boy, you know, to clean out the chimneys. If I cleaned out five chimneys he’d let me eat, and that piece of bread tonight would have been more than the usual. And I got to sleep inside, which was good. If I didn’t do five, well...” Jack paused. “You don’t want to hear none of this. Let’s get some sleep.”

“I’d like to hear more, Jack,” she said quietly. “I remember the climbing boys in the city.”

Jack sighed. “If I didn’t do five he’d beat the shit outta me. Sorry. Anyway, I learned to do five. That’s it. Being a newsie was a lot better, even if I didn’t always make it inside for the night. Like I said, dishes ain’t nothing. I shouldn’t have got mad at you. I told you I’d take care of the food and I didn’t do that real good today.” Katherine could hear the regret in his voice, knowing the dark was the only reason he had shared any of this with her.

“How long did you clean chimneys, Jack?” she asked.

“About a year. Then I met Race and he told me about being a newsie, so I changed professions.” Katherine could hear the smile in his voice. “It was winter and he was selling where I was working. He saw I didn’t have no boots, and at the end of the job he was waiting for me outside with a pair. He’d told the older newsies about me and they all chipped in. He told me to put the boots on and be a newsie with him. He even paid for my first night at the lodge. We been friends since then.”

Katherine lay in Jack’s arms, speechless. Her father had taught her all her life to give to charity. Her schools had raised money for the poor. She had assumed, she realized, that she had helped all of the poor people. She had seen the newsies, of course, and the climbing boys, and felt good that she had raised money to help them. But Jack didn’t seem to be aware of any of those efforts.

“Couldn’t an aid society have given you boots,” she asked, trying to mask her shock.

Jack laughed. “I dunno. Maybe. What six-year-old would know that? Race give them to me.” Katherine remained stunned. 

“Hey,” said Jack, “don’t be so surprised. It’s over now. We’re escaping, you and me, yeah? Ain’t no one gonna hurt you again.”

Katherine turned to Jack and gently held the less bruised side of his face. She ran her hand down to the front of his shirt and unbuttoned it a little more. “Jack,” she said, “I might be a baby newsie in some ways, but not in all ways.”

She could feel Jack start to smile. “Oh, yeah? And what ways might those be?” Katherine wasn’t entirely sure herself, but she leaned in and kissed his collarbone. He sucked in his breath again, this time in a new way.

Spot lay still, not knowing if it was better to move or not. Stay, and risk Pulitzer tracking him down with dogs. Would he do that, he wondered? Move, and risk drawing attention to himself. He wasn’t sure he could move anyway, come to think of it. He’d move at night, he decided. If they found him today, well, he’d grab one of their guns and shoot himself. He breathed in and out, trying to control his pain, but not succeeding very well. Every move meant moving his back. What exactly was his plan, he asked himself. Away. His plan was away. He had no family; his friends were either dead or in prison, as far as he knew. Jack was heading west to Santa Fe, he remembered. That sounded like as good an idea as any. Where the fuck was Santa Fe, he wondered. Sounded like them cities in California. Well, if he headed west then someone along the way would know where the fuck it was, right? How, though. No more crime, he decided. No judge who knew a judge who knew a guy who knew Pulitzer and bam he’d be back at Pulitzer’s or worse. He’d go straight. Work his way there, wherever it was. Ain’t nobody gonna hire him looking like this, though. Gotta yet healed up, Spotty, so’s you can work and nobody can guess what’s under your shirt. Spot sank back on his stomach onto the pile of leaves he’d put around himself, wishing he had a friend.


	7. Charlie Saves the Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Friday, what can I say.

Race debated leaping back off the train, but the panicked look on Charlie’s face kept him in the boxcar. Well, fuck. Jack would follow the train, he guessed. They’d have to get off as soon as they could and just hope the track didn’t split anytime soon.

Race turned to Charlie. “Well,” he said. “Guess it’s just us for now.”

Charlie pulled his knee up and rested his forehead on it. “Yeah.”

“They’ll find us,” said Race. “We just gotta get off as soon as we can.” Charlie nodded, head still down. “Hey, at least we got the sack of food. That’s good, right?” Charlie nodded again.

Race looked at the passing scenery for a while. Running away wasn’t any fun without Jack. He liked Charlie well enough, but he hardly knew him. The kid knew a lot about chickens and had a nice grandpa and knew how to cook. Race couldn’t think of anything else he knew about Charlie. “Hey,” he called. “Come over here and watch the scenery.”

Charlie raised his head and looked blankly at Race. He’d rather poke out his own eyeballs, Race could tell. “Come on,” said Race. “You can tell me your favorite food to make.”

Charlie smiled a little. “Yeah, okay.” He scooted over to Race. “Grandpa taught me how to cook. He could make just about anything.”

“So I’ve heard,” said Race. “What’s your favorite?”

“I liked his stew best,” said Charlie, “but I like making bread the most. I like hitting the dough and watching it rise.”

Race had seen enough bakeries to kind of know what Charlie meant. “You like hitting stuff, is that it? No wonder you and Jack got along.”

Charlie gazed out over the landscape. “No, that ain’t it. Grandpa and me just had a lot of time to watch stuff, is all.” Race saw the tears start to build up. “We did everything together, especially after Grandma died.” Charlie rubbed his face with his sleeve, smearing tear tracks through the dust on his cheeks.

Race nodded. “Your grandpa was good to me. I wish we coulda stayed,” he said. “That was a hell of a way to die.”

Charles let out a choked sob and laugh. “Yeah, it was. He said he might die after breaking his hip, but not like that. I thought I’d be older when he died, you know?”

Race was silent as he reached over and put his arm around Charlie. He did know. 

Charlie woke up as the train slowed. “Race, we’re stopping,” he said. “Do we still get off?”

Race jerked awake. “Yeah, kid, for sure. Get ready.” He grabbed the sack of food and gripped the side of the open door. He peered out toward the upcoming station. “Fuck. Charlie, there’s cops. We gotta run, okay?”

”Okay,” said Charlie. He held on to the other side of the doorway. “Don’t leave me, though.” He saw Race roll his eyes. As the train slowed even more, he saw Race get ready to jump, and braced himself for his inevitable fall onto the gravel. Race jumped, and Charlie followed, trying to recover his crutch and get up as fast as he could, the gravel scrapes ripping up his arms and knees. The shouting from the bulls scared him as he frantically tried to follow Race. They made it past one set of tracks when a cop came at him from the opposite direction. Charlie couldn’t change direction without running straight into another cop, and he stopped. 

“Race!” he shouted. “Help!” The bull grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him toward the station.

Race came flying around the corner of a stopped train, finally seeing Charlie. “Let him go! He ain’t done nothing!” Race shouted. He followed Charlie and the cops into the station, trying to pull Charlie away until he found himself with his hands cuffed behind his back.

Charlie stood angrily in front of the desk in the room. “What’d I do?” he asked. “Don’t arrest him,” he said, pointing at Race.

The officer behind the desk stood up and slapped Charlie across the face. “You ain’t the one giving orders around here, understand?” Charlie kept his face to the side, shocked. He glanced at Race and understood.

“Please, officer,” said Race, “he ain’t right in the head. He don’t know what he’s saying.” The officer turned his attention to Race. “Please don’t hit him. He’s slow, you know?”

The officer slapped Race across the face, this time hard enough to leave a mark. “We don’t like hoboes on our trains here. You stay off, you understand?” Charlie tried not to gasp as Race stayed bent for a moment, recovering, before awkwardly straightening up.

Race lifted his face and nodded. “Yes, sir. We will. We’ll leave right now, on the road. Yes, sir.” Charlie looked at the cop who had cuffed Race, waiting for him to take the cuffs off, but the cop had a funny look on his face. The cop bent over and spoke into his boss’s ear. The officer looked at Charlie and Race again, and then picked up a piece of paper from his desk. He read it, looking at them once more.

“What’s your name, boy,” he asked Race.

“I been called Boots all my life,” said Race.

The officer reached back and slapped Race again on the same cheek. Race exhaled as he stumbled a bit to the side. “Your name,” the officer repeated.

“Boots,” said Race.

The officer checked his paper again. “Take his shirt off,” he ordered the bull.

Race grinned as the cuffs were released and he pulled off his shirt. “Listen, officer, I done this kinda thing before, but not with an audience,” he started. He cut off as the officer shoved him around so Race was facing away. Charlie’s eyes got big as he saw Race’s scars. Not as bad at what he’d seen on Jack, but still.

“It ain’t him,” the officer told the cop. He roughly turned Race back around. “You know anyone named Jack Kelly? Or Katherine Pulitzer?”

Race made a thoughtful face. “Nope. No, sir, I mean. Wait, Pulitzer? Ain’t that the president? Is that his wife?”

The officer shook his head. “What’s his name?” he asked Race, pointing at Charlie. 

“He knows his name,” said Race. “He ain’t that stupid.” He turned to Charlie. “Go on, tell ‘em your name.”

Charlie took a minute and looked straight at the officer. “Katherine Pulitzer.” 

Race rolled his eyes. “Sorry, officer. I toldja he ain’t right. Can I put my shirt back on now, or didja have something else in mind?”

This time the officer caught Race in the gut before landing a final punch to his jaw. Race flew back against the wall and crashed to the floor. He smiled as he wiped the blood from his mouth. “Just askin’.”

The officer moved swiftly toward Race, his fist raised, but stopped short as Charlie suddenly raised his crutch, swinging it around himself, narrowly missing the other cop. “The hell??” the cop shouted, trying to grab the crutch.

Charlie closed his eyes, drew in a quick breath and cried shrilly, “Ca-caw! Who likes stew?! Time to punch the dough down! My name’s Katherine! Katherine! Katherine!” By this point Race had gotten to his feet and grabbed his shirt as the bulls stared at Charlie in shock.

“We’re leaving town right now, I swear!” Race shouted, grabbing Charlie and dragging him out the door.

“Katherine!” Charlie shouted one more time.

“Shaddup,” said Race, as they almost fell over each other getting out the door. “You done good.”


	8. Talking to Strangers

Spot waited until near dark to approach the shed, slowly pulling the creaky door open. He tripped on the threshold and fell to the floor, making far too much noise. Fuck. He crawled into a corner, past the stacked wood and tools. Exhausted, he put his shirt on the floor for a pillow and then lay on his side, panting. He hadn’t gotten far, he didn’t think, but he couldn’t go any more. He’d be eighty-six years old by the time he got to Santa Fe, he thought angrily. His back burned and stabbed him through as he unevenly caught his breath. He clenched his fists until they hurt in an effort to distract himself. 

He could see a bobbing light coming toward the shed. He’d left the door open, idiot that he was. Spot closed his eyes and tried his best to push himself up. He made it to all fours when a figure came into the shed, holding a lantern.

“Who’s there,” a man’s voice called. “Show yourself.” 

Spot looked up from where he was. “I’m over here,” he croaked. “Just looking for a place to sleep. I ain’t gonna take nothing.”

The man came closer and held the lantern over Spot. “I’ll be fucked,” he said. “You need help, son.”

Spot didn’t move. “I’m fine,” he said. “Please, just let me sleep here. I’ll be gone in the morning.”

“You’re coming inside,” said the man.

Spot didn’t move. 

“There’s no one here but me,” the man continued. “Come on in and I’ll fix you up. I’m about to eat dinner if you think you’d want some of it.”

Spot raised his head and stared at the serious face above him.

“If I’d wanted to hurt you I’d have done it by now, don’t you think?” he asked, reaching out his hand. “My name’s Denton.”

Spot cracked a small, wry smile. He reached up for Denton’s hand and squeezed his eyes shut as he let Denton help him up. He dared to hope, just a little, that this someone might offer him help. 

Denton watched Spot finish his food. “Where you from, son?”

Spot slowed his chewing and looked suspiciously at Denton. “Around.”

“You read the newspaper lately? Some pretty big news around here the past couple of days.”

“I ain’t a big reader,” said Spot. “Why don’t you tell me.” The bandages suddenly felt too tight. He gripped his fork, just in case.

“Pulitzer’s barn burned down. His daughter’s missing. Some apprentices have run off. There’s a big reward for information and an even bigger one for their capture,” said Denton. “I don’t have any use for that kind of money, do you? Anyway, I heard Pulitzer didn’t make life easy working for him, either. Maybe he had it coming. Did you ever know anyone on that place?”

Spot gritted his teeth. “Some folks have tough bosses. Sometimes folks get punished for no reason and can’t take no more.” He picked up his knife with his other hand and gripped it hard.

“I suppose that’s true,” said Denton. “I’d probably run myself if I got treated badly. It’d be hard to trust people after that, I would wager.” He paused, ignoring Spot’s fork and knife. “So, why don’t you stay here for a while until you’re feeling a little better. I could use some help around here. I fix stuff, you know. I got a forge and tools and you could give me a hand. You know, if you worked hard enough, I might be able to help you get to wherever you’re going.”

“What’s the catch?” Spot asked. “What do you get?”

“Company,” said Denton. “And the satisfaction of sticking it to a guy like Pulitzer.” He grinned at Spot. “I’m not stupid, Spot. I know who you are.”

Katherine, much to her surprise the next morning, slept like the dead. She awoke as a drop of water fell on her face, then another. Jack didn’t move. She would not complain, she told herself. She would not melt. She lay still, her head cushioned on Jack’s arm as she faced away from him, and looked at his hand, relaxed and outstretched in front of her. She had noticed how much he liked to rub her hands in his, something she enjoyed as well. She traced the calluses on his palm and wondered where the scars came from. Did some come from home, she wondered. No doubt they’d noticed she and Jack were gone. And Charlie. Was her father looking for her? Milton was, probably. As she laced her fingers through his, she felt him shift closer to her, wrapping his other arm around her.

“Morning,” he murmured.

“Good morning,” she replied. “It’s raining a little.”

“Mmhm,” he replied. “Okay.” He raised his head and kissed her behind her ear. “You hungry still?” 

Katherine was starving. That little piece of bread had not helped much, but again, she would not complain. “No,” she said.

“You’re lying,” said Jack. “You took too long to answer.” He started to get up, gently rolling her off of his arm. “We’ll stop at the next farm we see, okay? Maybe I can get some work.”

The rain spattered down some more, slowly dripping into their clothes. Katherine wasn’t sure Jack was serious. Surely they should go back to the town and find a place to stay until the rain let up? Or stay under the trees nearby? But he had stood up and brushed himself off, holding out his hand to help her up. He grinned as her now wet hand slipped in his and she fell back down into the weeds. She tried again and this time got to her feet.

“Better to get wet and get closer to Race and Charlie than to just stay here and get wet, right?” Jack smiled again, coming in for a kiss. “We got work to do.” Katherine tried to smile as she took her first steps, but could not keep from gasping as her sore feet met the ground for the first time. She staggered, hoping the sensation of knives going through the soles of her feet would go away, but fell to her knees. Grow up, Katherine, she scolded herself. She gave her best smile to Jack as he helped her up again.

“You okay?” he asked. “Your legs still asleep?” Katherine nodded, realizing that it wasn’t just her feet that were already screaming for help, but her hips and legs. She took a few tentative steps, wondering if this was what old people felt like every day. Jack watched her with a bemused smile. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again.

“I’m fine,” she gritted. “Let’s go.” Jack pushed out his lips and raised his eyebrows. 

Jack supported Katherine by the waist as they slowly approached the drive to the house set back from the road. “You stay here,” he instructed. “You’re sick, and deaf, right? Just rest while I get us some food somehow.” He gently set her on the rock at the end of the drive, squatting in front of her as he pushed the wet hair off of his forehead. “You good?” She nodded, too exhausted to speak.

Jack set off quickly for the house. This was not how he had pictured running away with her at all. He was supposed to be keeping her safe, not dragging her along railroad tracks until she could barely stand. His stomach turned as he saw how badly she was doing, despite her efforts to keep going. He went up and rapped on the door, stepping back as a woman came to answer. She held a baby on her hip as a toddler peered around her skirt.

“Just passing through, ma’am. Wondering if you had any work in exchange for some food,” said Jack. “My little brother’s hungry.”

The woman looked over her shoulder at Katherine. “What’s he doing back there?”

“Sick, ma’am,” said Jack. “If you got any chores...”

The woman looked at Jack. “I got plenty. My husband’s gone and I could use some help. Tell your brother there to come in out of the wet while you work.”

“He’s real sick,” said Jack. “He don’t need to be near nobody. What kind of work you need done?” He ran his sleeve over his face. Even he was feeling hungry now.

“I am not going to have a sick boy sit in the rain,” said the woman firmly. “You get him in here and then you can work for your food.”

Jack hesitated. Kath didn’t look like a boy, as far as he could tell. But there didn’t seem to be another house for miles, and Kath wasn’t going to last much longer. They had to eat. He raised his arm and gestured for Katherine to come up to the house. She pushed herself up and stumbled down the driveway.

“He’s deaf,” said Jack, loud enough to remind Katherine as she got close. “You don’t need to talk to him none.” Katherine pulled her cap lower over her face as Jack slung his arm around her. “He’ll just sit out here on the porch, then, yeah?”

“He’s coming in,” said the woman. “You go around back and chop me up my wood. Then you can clean out the stalls and bring in my water for the day.”

Jack exchanged a look with Katherine before letting her go and walking around back to start his work. He felt the rain run down his back as he worked, finding his still healing marks, his pants sticking to his legs, and his hands working harder that usual to keep a good grip on the ax. Do not let up, Kelly, he reprimanded himself. Get the work done and get out. No doubt that lady can tell Kath ain’t no boy. He practically ran into the house with the wood, more than surprised to see the woman calmly cooking in her kitchen, Katherine sitting quietly by the fire. Well, at least she was drying out, Jack thought. Still. He raced back to the barn, where the muck and straw stuck to him as he worked, his hands soon muddy and his face streaked with dirt. The rain started to let up as he pumped bucket after bucket and brought the water to the tubs on the porch. Katherine stayed by the fire, still quiet as the woman worked around her. When Jack was about halfway done bringing up the water, he looked in the window and saw Katherine eating a plateful of something. He half smiled, relieved he’d done that much for her, before going back out for another bucket. The tubs finally full, he knocked on the back door.

“I think I’m finished,” he said, as the woman came to the door.

She glanced at the tubs and nodded. “I’ll have to check your work in the barn,” she said, putting the baby in the crib and pulling a coat over her shoulders. Jack followed her out, where she took her sweet time looking into each stall. Jack felt his clothes drip onto the barn floor, willing his stomach to stay quiet. He turned at the sound of a horse and rider approaching and entering the barn. Jack tensed and rolled his shoulders. 

“Alma, who is this?” the man asked, dismounting.

“William!” Alma turned to Jack. “I never did catch your name.”

Jack wiped his hands on his wet pants and held out his hand. “Tony. Me and my brother was passing through and, um, Miss Alma let me do some chores so’s we could eat a little.”

“He’s done a good job, William.” said Alma, “He’s a good worker. His little brother is inside. Delicate sort, isn’t he, Tony,” she asked. “Very delicate.” 

“Yeah, well, our folks didn’t have him work so much,” said Jack. “He’s the baby, you know.” He cringed, hearing how false it sounded. Shoulda thought that one through, Kelly.

“Good to meet you, Tony,” said William. “Come on in and get a bite to eat with me.” Jack tried to smile, and following William inside.

“Any luck hunting?” asked Alma, following Jack inside. She stayed by the back door as William came in and saw Katherine sitting by the fire. “You might have been better off hunting closer to home.”

Jack turned and looked at Alma. She smiled. He turned back the other way and looked at William, who had changed his focus from Katherine to Jack. He looked back at Katherine, and then back at Jack. Jack swallowed. 

“Hands up, boy,” said William. “There’s a reward out for you and I aim to collect.”

Jack had long since learned that surprise was his friend. He lowered his shoulder and took William to the floor, shouting, “Ben! Run!” Katherine stayed frozen on the hearth. Jack punched William as hard as he could, starting a fight with the bigger man that Jack wasn’t entirely sure he would win on an empty stomach. William trapped him and landed a series of punches on Jack’s still bruised face that left Jack dazed. You have to win, Kelly. You have to. Somewhere deep he felt a new surge of strength as he grappled with William, wanting only to escape. Jack fought dirty, going for the eyes. Finally he had a chance to slam William’s head into the hearth, and he did it. One slam was all it took for William to be out cold. 

Jack got up, panting and reaching for Katherine. He shoved Alma away and dragged Katherine out of the house until they both could run.


	9. Stop

Jack kept going. And going. And going. 

“Jack, we have to stop! You’re hurt!” Katherine cried. Jack knew he was hurt. That was no mystery. But what good would stopping do? He’d still be hurt.

“Jack, your face!” Katherine tried again. Jack blinked, focusing on the ground in front of him. He wiped the blood dripping into his eye with his bloody hand. “Stop!”

Jack finally stopped, swaying as he turned to look. “Lemme explain this to you,” he said, trying not to shout. “The next town ain’t coming to us. We gotta go to it. Race’ll be there.” He spat out some blood and ran his torn sleeve over his mouth. “We stay here then we’ll get caught for sure.”

“Your back is bleeding again,” said Katherine. “Let me help you.”

Jack’s eyes hardened. “How? You got bandages? Hm? You got water? I know I failed, Kath. I ain’t done nothing right. I ain’t got you enough food, never mind a good place to sleep. Let’s just keep moving, okay?” He squeezed some water from his shirttail and turned his head in the direction they had been going.

“You need to rest! Jack, even resting will help you,” Katherine pleaded. “I can go ahead by myself and find Race. We can bring you some bandages and food.”

Jack waved her off as he weaved a little on their path. “Like hell.” After a few steps Jack paused and faced Katherine again. “You think I never worked after getting beat? Hm? You think I ain’t never worked in the rain before? You think I ain’t never worked hungry before? Lemme tell you something...” He stopped, wiping more blood from the cut on his forehead. “Two days ain’t nothing. One little fight ain’t nothing. Ain’t nothing different from being a newsie, or in prison, or working for your father. I don’t need your help. My job is to take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Next place we find I’m just gonna steal what we need.”

Katherine strode up to Jack, her face up close to his. “Just because that’s how it’s been doesn’t make it right, Jack. I feel bad that you’ve done all this for me and now you’re hurt, that’s all.” 

Jack jutted out his chin. “I don’t want your pity,” he said, jaw clenched. “And next time I tell you to run, you better damn well run. Not everyone’s your friend now, Pulitzer,” he spat. “You ain’t rich no more.”

Katherine gasped. “How dare you,” she said furiously. She reached back and slapped him. “I left everything for you.” Jack grunted as her hand hit his bruised face. He licked his lips and spat out some more blood.

“You made a mistake, then,” said Jack, bringing his face back towards hers. “Go ahead. Hit me again! Give me your best shot! You ain’t different from nobody else.”

Jack held his head steady and glared at Katherine. “Do it again!” he shouted, pointing at his face. “I’m a failure! I get it!” 

Katherine met his eyes. Jack kept glaring at her, his anger rising. She put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him, hard. Jack lost his breath, shocked, and staggered forward as she released the kiss. They stared at each other, Jack not understanding. He felt his legs give out and barely caught himself as his knees cracked on the railroad tie in front of him. He leaned forward and braced himself with his arms. Suddenly he felt the whip marks on his back, the cuts on his hands and face, the new bruises all over his face, and his empty stomach, and he dropped his head. 

“Let’s just rest,” said Katherine. Jack nodded, not looking up.

Katherine walked with Jack for a long while, shocked by what she had seen. She was frightened by Jack unleashed, watching him fight the man who wanted to turn him in. Jack had fought viciously, not stopping even when he was trapped. His last push to fight and then the final slam of William’s head into the stone hearth had nearly stopped her heart. What kind of person can do that, she wondered. Jack’s hands had turned bloody, and soon blood was running down his face. Still he fought. He’d shouted at her to run, but even then she couldn’t believe he was serious. Running would help? Run where? How would he find her? What if he lost the fight and was arrested? She’d have to be there to help him.

She felt guilty as she walked, knowing she had to have more energy than he did. The pork chop and potatoes had been so good. Alma had insisted she eat it, and that she’d give a plate to Jack once he was done working. Kath had hoped he wouldn’t think she was being selfish, having a plate when he hadn’t had one yet. Looking back, did Alma want her to remember they’d been nice to her? Perhaps to curry favor with her father? Katherine didn’t like how suspicious she suddenly felt. She glanced over at Jack, his face set as he put one foot ahead of the other. He wasn’t saying much, just occasionally grimacing as he adjusted his still wet clothes. Katherine noticed with alarm that blood was seeping through the back of his shirt. The fight must have reopened the whip marks? He didn’t appear to notice, but how could he not? He had to stop. Just stop. 

And people didn’t like her just because she was rich. Why, plenty of her friends had been even richer than she was! Jack was an impossible boy. She knew as soon as she said it that she hadn’t left everything for him. She’d left Milton, and gladly, so maybe she shouldn’t have slapped Jack. On the face. On his newest bruises. After he’d done all that work, just for her. She looked into his angry eyes, so full of hurt and expecting more hurt. On an impulse she kissed him, hard enough to melt away the hurt, she hoped. She pulled away, stunned when Jack collapsed. Finally, he had stopped. She led him onto the bank leading up to the tracks to sit. He closed his eyes as she took some wet leaves and tried to clean off his hands and face.

“Better?” she asked.

Jack’s lips trembled as he nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered softly. “Thanks.”


	10. People Who Give A Damn

Spot stood back and watched Denton at the forge again. Mesmerized, he saw the metal heat up and change color, and he stared at all the colors more intently as Denton pounded the metal back to the shape it needed to be. This was work he could do, Spot thought to himself. He really could.

Denton held the metal in the fire again and looked at Spot. “Wanna try?” Spot nodded a little, not sure how much he should let on to Denton. He came closer and let Denton guide him through the process. It felt good to pound. It was worth jarring his back to do this. It felt good to change the metal the way he wanted to. He loved the violence and the beauty of the colors. He pounded until the metal had cooled and Denton had to heat it up again for him to practice more. He pounded and turned and formed and changed the metal. At last, he turned his face to Denton and grinned a little.

“You like that work, Spot?” Denton asked as he made dinner. 

“Yeah,” said Spot. He didn’t look up as he put the plates on the table. 

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll teach you a little more.”

“If you want to,” said Spot. “Don’t matter to me. You tell me what you want me to do.” He got two cups and filled them with water, waiting to see if Denton wanted him to do anything more before they ate.

“Spot, you have some say, you know,” said Denton. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay too.”

“I do,” said Spot quickly. “If you wanna show me, then yeah, I do.” Jesus, that was close. Denton sat down, so Spot sat too.

“I got a book about it. Maybe tonight you can look through it,” said Denton, taking a bite.

Spot nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He could at least look at the pictures, anyway. Whatever Denton wanted.

”What?” asked Denton.

“What, what?” asked Spot.

“You were so excited to do more, then you weren’t. It’s like you blew out the light,” said Denton. “Don’t you want to learn more about it?”

“Yeah,” said Spot. Shit. “I do, really. It’s just, I ain’t... I ain’t much of a book reader, I guess. I liked watching you a lot, Denton,” he hurried on. “I’ll learn fast, I swear. I wanna do it.”

Denton watched Spot for a moment. “Can you read, Spot?”

Spot pushed back his chair. “Yeah, I can read. I ain’t stupid.” Hurt or not, Spot didn’t like the sound of Denton’s challenge. He’d take him if he had to.

Denton narrowed his eyes. “You are far from stupid. I’d say you’re pretty smart.” He reached over to the bookshelf behind him and flipped open a book. He shoved it in front of Spot. “Read.”

“Fuck you.”

“Show me an a.”

“You deaf? I said fuck you.” Spot watched Denton carefully, rocking back onto the back two legs of his chair. What did Denton care if he could read or not. He said he wanted Spot to work, not read him bedtime stories.

Denton nodded. “You wanna work the forge? Fine. But you will learn how to read for thirty minutes with me after dinner every night if you want to use the forge the next day.”

Spot dropped his chair down and stared at him. “What the fuck do you care if I can read? All you said was I had to work for you.”

Denton smiled a little. “I lied. You’re going to learn how to read, too. Don’t like it? Fine. Leave.”

Spot gave him a disgusted look. “You fucking stink, Denton.”

Denton shrugged. “Okay.”

Jack’s mouth trembled as Katherine tried to clean him off. He wasn’t angry anymore, somehow. He just felt empty. Tired. Sore. He’d failed. And now he wasn’t even walking. Big, tough Jack Kelly. Right. He dropped his head, running his fingers through his hair, ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You didn’t do nothing.” At this rate she’d just turn him in herself and pretend none of this happened, he guessed. 

Jack felt her hand pause. “I’m sorry too,” he heard Katherine say. “I’m so sorry I slapped you, after all you’ve done for me.”

He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “I’ll do more, I promise,” he said quietly.

Katherine kissed his bloodied knuckles. “We’ll be fine,” she said. She seemed so sure. He nodded, not looking at her. Katherine settled next to Jack and looked around at his back. “You should probably not let your shirt dry on your back like that,” she said. “Your scabs will heal better without it.”

Jack smirked a little. “Is that right,” he said. “You know all about it, huh. You just wanna see me take it off.” She was right, but he liked seeing her blush. He grimaced as he peeled off his shirt. Katherine winced as she saw his back, and gently tried to clean more blood off. Jack sucked in his breath, but let her try. 

“Oh, Jack,” was all Katherine said.

“Ain’t nothing. I got worse before, like you seen.” Jack jerked as she touched a little too close to a lash mark. 

“Still. It’s awful.” Katherine kept working. “I thought writing a phrase on the chalkboard thirty times was a punishment.”

Jack choked out a laugh. “My first day at the Refuge I got thirty hits with the belt.”

“Well, practically the same thing, wouldn’t you say?” Katherine said, smiling. She came around front and kissed Jack.

“Yeah, for sure.” Jack put his hand on her cheek to keep the kiss going. He pouted as she drew away.

“You ready?” Katherine asked. “I understand the next town will not be coming to us. We are required to go to it.”

Jack grinned as best he could. “So I hear. Let’s go.”


	11. Don’t You Like It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short. Sorry. Less time to write these days, ironically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: non-graphic reference to underage prostitution at the beginning.

Jack felt his legs get shaky as it got dark. He could go three days without eating, he knew, but he usually hadn’t walked this much, even as a newsie. Even Snyder had let him eat something before he passed out from hunger. On the toughest days as a newsie he could usually get someone to give him some food if he, well, if he... Katherine would never know that part. But it’s not like there were folks lined up on the railroad tracks waiting for him to... make himself available. Jack blinked back some tears. He’d hated it so much. But if he’d been hungry enough, or if the littles were crying, he would. And did.

Jack shook his head. Never did no good to think about the past. Just tell yourself it didn’t happen, Kelly. Today was what mattered, and he wasn’t doing so good. He wobbled, looking quickly at Kath to see if she had noticed. She hadn’t. She didn’t look so good either, for that matter. She limped along, staring straight ahead.

They came over the top of the hill they’d been climbing, and Jack grunted in relief. Lights. He could steal something for sure. He reached out for Kath’s hand and squeezed it, giving her a little smile. 

“I’ll find something there, Kath,” he said, trying to sound steady. “Look at that place. We can’t be too far from the next town.” It was someone’s summer place, for sure, but not as big as Pulitzer’s. They’d need a town nearby, he figured, if they ain’t got a lot of crops going like Pulitzer did. He hoped.

Darkness was nearly complete as they approached through the trees near the edge of the property. “You stay here,” he instructed. “Ain’t no one gonna see you this time at all. And don’t you do nothing if they catch me, okay? I ain’t worth it. You get yourself to the next town and don’t worry none about me. Race and Charlie can take care of you till you’re good and far away from Milton, yeah?”

Kath half laughed. “My darling, Race and Charlie are nice, but I’m not running away to be with them. I will tie myself to the paddy wagon they get for you.”

“Get ready to get run over, then,” said Jack, trying to sound like he was joking.

Katherine watched Jack untie his shirt from around his waist and put it on, buttoning up a few buttons. He ran his wrist under his nose and gave her a grin. As he turned away, she saw the long blink and the extra second of leaning on the tree before he started off toward the property. He stumbled and fell before picking himself up, staggering forward until he disappeared into the dark. She waited, her knees pulled up toward her chest, feeling guilty for being hungry again already. She jumped as some leaves rustled nearby. And what kind of animal made that kind of noise? One bigger or smaller than she was? As if it mattered, she thought blurrily. She scream if she saw a mouse. She’d simply surrender if it were anything bigger.

Jack had been gone a while, she thought. How long does it take, exactly? She wished he wouldn’t steal, but it’s not like she had a better idea. Working hadn’t given them much, had it, you lazy thing, she scolded herself. All she did was sit back and eat what Jack had worked for. Being a girl might have let her help, but from the sound of it her father had put out the reward far and wide. Her stomach roared. Maybe that would scare away whatever was creeping around in the trees, she hoped. 

Katherine startled at the sound of dogs barking in the distance. Soon after, she heard the sound of someone? Something? Coming back to her. She drew back as Jack flung himself on the ground, panting. He stuck out his hand and handed her something slimy. She dropped it in horror, wiping her hand on her shirt. She didn’t care how hungry she was, she was absolutely not eating that. Jack rolled onto his side, catching his breath, and looked at her. He brought up his other hand and took a bite, of what, Katherine couldn’t see. He closed his eyes, relishing whatever it was.

He opened his eyes and looked at her in surprise. “Ain’t you hungry?” He took another bite.

Katherine smiled. She could hang on until tomorrow. “You want mine?” She forced herself to pick up the slimy thing she had dropped and held it out to him.

He propped himself up. “You get a chance to eat twice in one day and you’re saying no? You sure?” Katherine nodded and kept her hand out until he took it. “You’re really sure,” he asked again.

“Take it,” she said. “You earned it. You need it more than I do.”

Jack finished the food he was holding and took the food from Katherine’s hand. He shoved it in his mouth and swallowed, smiling. “Too late now.”

Katherine finally dared ask. “What was that?”

Jack stared at her a second and burst out laughing. “Slop. From the pig trough. I waited until they went to toss their scraps for the day. They went inside and I took what I could grab. Pretty sure it was old potatoes. Why? You don’t like potatoes?”

Katherine tried not to be sick.


	12. Don’t You Worry

Jack awoke the next morning and lay still, not wanting to wake Katherine. He watched her breathe, wondering still why she was sticking this out with him. Why she ever wanted to be with a guy as banged up and useless as he was, he’d never understand. He stroked her arm. As much as he’d slept out, he’d always been with Race, not a beautiful heiress, that was for sure. Katherine rolled over to face him.

“Good morning,” said Jack, smiling. “How’s my girl?”

“Good morning,” said Kath. “I’m pretty sore.”

Jack’s smile dropped. “Oh yeah? Where?” He propped himself up and rubbed at his one good eye.

Katherine sat up and pulled off her boots and stockings. Jack grimaced as Katherine gave him a regretful look. “It hurt a lot yesterday,” she said. “But I didn’t want to say anything since you were in worse shape than me.”

Jack huffed and waved his hand. “You gotta stop worrying so much about me,” he said. “We ain’t walking nowhere today. Not if you’re looking like that. We’ll just stay here and I’ll go steal some more tonight. Something better,” he said, grinning.

“Is it safe? Just to stay here?” Katherine asked. “Maybe we should go on to the town. You said it probably wasn’t that far now.”

“You can’t walk nowhere today,” said Jack. “We go into town, folks is gonna notice a gimpy girl and a guy who don’t look too good himself. Let’s just stay here.” He held out his arms as he lay back down. “Come here.” Kath smiled as he smiled up at her, and laid down in his arms, snuggling close.

Spot frowned. “That story ain’t right,” he said to Denton. “They make Jacky out to be some kind of criminal. He ain’t mean like that. You sure you’re reading that right?”

Denton looked over the top of the newspaper at Spot. “You wanna check my reading?”

“Nah,” said Spot. “Just trying to keep you honest.” He finished washing the last dish and started drying. “It’s good he’s still out there, though, that they ain’t caught him yet.”

“Yet? You think they will?” asked Denton.

Spot shrugged. “Maybe. Seemed like he got Charlie to sneak him some stuff sometimes, so he knows how to get what he wants. And he don’t give up easy. They beat on him a lot, you know? Didn’t let him eat regular or get no Sundays off. But he didn’t never quit. He might get free.”

“What about you?” Denton asked. “You ever feel like quitting?”

“I quit now, ain’t I?” said Spot, smiling a little. “Nah, I tried to play their game, do what they wanted. Look what it got me. I shoulda run off a long time ago, like Jacky. I’m sorry for what I done, but I think I paid plenty.”

Denton lowered his newspaper. “What did you do, anyway?”

Spot put his dish down carefully and turned slowly to Denton. “Ain’t none of your business. Throw me out right now. I ain’t saying.”

Denton held Spot’s gaze. “Was it violent? Am I in danger?” he asked quietly.

Spot stared hard at Denton. “Yeah. It was violent. Maybe someone died. No, you ain’t in danger from me. I ain’t gonna kill you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“So how’d you end up at Pulitzer’s instead of at Sing Sing?” Denton asked.

“What are you, a reporter?” Spot scowled. “I was a kid, so they give me a choice. Sing Sing or twice as long at Pulitzer’s. Seemed like an easy choice at the time. I ain’t telling you no more.”

Denton raised the newspaper again. “Not sure I want to know. Want to hear some other stories?”

”Sure, why not,” said Spot. He’d never heard of most of these places, but it was interesting anyway.

Race and Charlie peered out the window. “He’ll see us watching, you know,” said Race. “He’ll check the windows before he comes close.”

Charlie nodded. “Okay, then, let’s go out. Put the dogs in the barn so they don’t scare him off like they done.” Race held the door for Charlie as they went outside, and Race whistled for the dogs. Race and Charlie settled in by the back porch and waited as the sun went down. 

“Charlie, go get the slop pail,” ordered Race. “I bet he’s watching.” 

“Why me? I’m the crippled one, remember.” Charlie gave Race a shove. “Don’t be so lazy.”

“I ain’t lazy,” said Race, annoyed. “But when he comes I’m gonna be the one fast enough to catch him. So you gotta do your part now. Get going.”

Charlie grumbled as he got up and went back into the kitchen. “Nice. Real nice. Maybe one day I trip coming down the steps and dump the pail all over you.”

“Shaddup,” said Race. “I can hear you, you know.” Charlie rolled his eyes and mouthed, “I can hear you, you know,” as he stomped down the steps and out to the pig pen. He dumped the scraps in loudly, clanging the pail, hoping Jack would hear him.

He went back to the porch and crouched down with Race. “Think he’ll come? What if they moved on?” he asked. “Where do you think they are?”

“Beats me,” said Race. He held his finger to his lips as he heard footsteps slowly approaching in the dark. He grinned as he saw Jack slip over to the trough. 

“Jacky,” said Race quietly. “Jacky, that you?” Jack whirled around, shoving scraps inside his shirt as he started to run. Race took off after him, taking him down in the meadow. Grunting, he wrestled Jack onto his stomach for a moment before Jack flipped himself over, throwing Race off.

“It’s me, Jack! Race! Quit!” Race shouted. “Quit fighting!” Jack punched him in the throat. “Jacky, stop!” He gasped.

“Jack!” shouted Charlie, coming over to them. “It’s us! You found us! We found you!” 

Jack stopped struggling. “Race?” He panted, catching his breath. “Charlie?”

“Yes, you fucking idiot!” shouted Race. “Fucking quit punching me!”

Jack jumped up and saw Charlie. “Charlie!” He wrapped his arms around him, laughing, and waited for Race to pick himself up. “Race!” 

“Where’s Kath, Jack?” Charlie asked.

Jack pointed at the woods across the fields. “Over there. She ain’t walking too good, and I can’t carry her too good on my back.”

Race looked where Jack was pointing. “I’ll get her, Jacky. Don’t you worry.” He took off across the fields.

Jack stayed and looked at Charlie, a huge grin on his face. “You guys hiding here or what? You sure do a lot of shouting for hiding.”

Charlie shook his head. “We was gonna hide, but the dogs gave us away. This lady lives here and she said she read about us in the newspapers, and she don’t like Pulitzer, so she’s put us up and fed us and everything. You hungry?” He started to lead Jack back to the house.

Jack laughed. “Yeah,” he said.

“Miss Medda will fix you up good,” said Charlie. “Ain’t no one gonna get us here.”


	13. Trust

Jack followed Charlie to the steps leading up to the back porch. “Hey, Charlie,” he whispered, “how you do know she ain’t using you as bait? Maybe she been nice to you so I come in and she can get her reward money.”

Charlie stopped and turned toward Jack. “She ain’t. I asked her. She said she pays her help twice as much as anybody else, so they ain’t gonna hurt you.” 

Jack still didn’t move. “Do you think,” he hesitated. “Do you think you could bring a little food out here?” He looked down and scuffed his boot in the dirt. “I mean, I don’t wanna put her out or nothing if she been nice to you.”

A large woman appeared in the doorway, her silhouette nearly filling the frame. “Charlie? Race? Did you find them?” she called. 

“Yeah, Miss Medda,” said Charlie. “I got Jack here. Race gone after Katherine. They’ll be here soon.”

“Well, come on in, Jack Kelly,” said Medda. “I got plenty of food and a bed for everyone.”

Charlie looked at Jack expectantly. Jack didn’t look up. “You can at least come up on the porch where she can see you,” Charlie said. Jack scowled at him, but followed Charlie up onto the porch. 

Jack looked at Medda, squinting with his good eye. “Thanks for taking care of Charlie and Race,” he said. “That was real nice.” He tried to see around her into the house.

Medda looked him up and down as Jack peered around her. “You need to come in, Jack,” she said. “We can fix your shirt and get you some real food. We can take care of those cuts, too.” Charlie gave Jack a light shove from behind. Jack jerked free and moved away.

“I’m good out here,” he said. “Just take care of Katherine, if you can.” He ran his wrist under his nose and rolled his shoulder. “We’ll be on our way in the morning.” 

“Jack...” Charlie protested. Jack backed down the stairs, turning at the sounds of footsteps. Charlie started to follow, only to see Race come up with Katherine on his back.

“Miss Medda, I found her. This is Katherine,” said Race, setting her down on the steps. He put her stockings and boots on the porch and helped her up to the doorway.

“Katherine, dear, come in,” said Medda, opening the door wider. “Charlie, help her get settled, will you?” Charlie nodded and followed Katherine inside.

Race looked at Jack, standing in the shadows. “Ain’t you coming in?” he asked.

Jack stood for a moment. “Just make sure Katherine’s all right,” he said. “Go in and make sure they don’t hurt her.” 

“Jacky,” said Race. “it’s okay. Miss Medda ain’t gonna hurt her. Charlie’s watching out for her.” He paused and looked at Jack. “Want me to sleep out here with you tonight?”

Jack looked at Medda and the house and back at Race. He nodded. 

“You got it,” said Race. “Lemme get some food and I’ll be back out in a minute.” He dashed up the steps past Medda and out of sight. Jack could hear him talking to someone, he hoped in the kitchen.

Jack watched Medda. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “I can, uh, can I work it off tomorrow? For me and Katherine?” 

Medda came down the steps and held out her hand to Jack. “Baby, you don’t gotta work off nothing. You’re with Medda now. Come inside and eat. Let’s get you taken care of.”

Race slammed the back door open, his hands full of plates and a basket. “Come on, Jack,” he said. “We can sit by the shed and eat this.”

Jack’s eyes riveted to the food and he grinned. “Okay.” He turned back to Medda. “Um, thanks. But I’m good out here.”

Medda shrugged and looked at Race. “Your friend is a stubborn one. But you boys have a good time. See you in the morning, Race.”

Race put the food down and came over to give Medda a hug. “Good night, Miss Medda,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry about Jack. He’ll come around.” 

Medda patted Race’s back. “You’re a good friend, Racetrack,” she said.

Medda came out the next morning, thinking back to the conversation she’d had with Katherine last night. Charlie had already asked the cook to bring a tray to Katherine, and Medda just sat as listened as Katherine filled her in on their past few days as she ate. No wonder Jack hadn’t wanted to come in. Well, he’d come around, as Race promised. 

She stopped and smiled when she found Jack and Race, piled on top of and around each other by the side of the shed. The basket was empty and the plates were stacked next to them. Her smile faded as she looked more closely at Jack in the growing sunlight. A bath would work wonders. She probably had some spare buttons somewhere to fix his shirt, and the tear could be repaired as well. Surely she could scare up a pair of pants to replace whatever he was wearing. And his face, well, his face would just take time.

Jack stirred, and Medda stepped away and went back to the house. Nothing would scare that boy more than knowing she was watching him sleep, she laughed to herself. She asked the cook to make a enormous breakfast, and settled down at the table to wait.

Charlie and Katherine appeared first. As they helped themselves, she heard Race come up the back steps.

“Miss Medda?” he called. “Jack wants to know if he can change his mind and come in.”

Medda smiled wide. “You tell Jack Kelly he’d better come in. Charlie is set to eat all this himself unless you two get in here and stop him.” 

Race opened the door and came in, grinning at Medda. Jack followed slowly, and stood in the door. “I’m sorry, Miss Medda,” he said. “Can I come in?”

Medda got up and went over to him. “Yes, baby, you can come in. Ain’t no one here gonna hurt you.”

Jack smiled a half smile as he glanced around the house. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you.”


	14. Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, y’all. Have I jumped the shark? Or is this good? Please, for the love of all that is holy, please comment!!!

“Race,” Jack whispered as they climbed on board the next train, “I think someone’s following us.”

Race shook his head and pulled on Jack’s sleeve to get him to follow. “Ain’t nobody following us. I been checking too.” They settled into their seats facing Charlie and Katherine, grinning. 

“Somebody been following us since Pittsburgh,” said Jack. Race shook his head again.

“Say goodbye to St. Louis,” said Katherine. “We’re getting there, guys.”

Jack our his feet up on Charlie’s seat and got Charlie’s twisted leg resting on top of his legs. “Feel good?” he asked. Charlie nodded and settled back. Jack tilted his cap little over his eyes, but not so much that he couldn’t see if he wanted to. No sense in getting soft. Medda paid through Kansas City, but that’s as much as she could do for them, she had said. But she knew folks who knew folks, so Jack felt good about getting them pretty close to Santa Fe. He let his mind wander back to the nicest week he could ever remember, staying at her home, and smiled.

Jack couldn’t believe their luck as she’d divided the money among them. “We’ll get caught in no time, all four of us going together,” he worried to Medda.

“No one’s gonna be looking for you sitting in a seat, Jack Kelly,” she had gently corrected him. “Or with clothes that ain’t all raggedy and torn. Ain’t no one looking for a clean boy.” Jack grinned sheepishly. The clothes she’d found weren’t dressy, but they were all in one piece, and he’d cleaned up good once his bruises had calmed down, she said. Race had given Kath some lessons in slouching and not smiling all the time, which helped.

The train slowed as it pulled into Kansas City. Jack sighed, wondering if he’d ever get to sit in a seat again, but pulled Charlie up as they got ready to disembark. He bent down to look out the window as he waited for the people in front of him to get off, and straightened up so fast he hit his head on the rack. 

“Charlie,” he said quietly. “You see who I see?” 

Charlie peered out the window. “There’s lots of people. Who do you have in mind?”

“Forget it,” said Jack. “Come on, let’s get outta here.” He stepped down and waited for Race and Katherine. “Okay, gang, time to get back to riding in style. Back to the boxcars, yeah? Gotta find the ones headed for Colorado somewheres.” As they wound around the train tracks, Jack felt the hairs on his neck stick up again. He spun around without warning and found someone staring at him, grinning, from about twenty feet away.

“Spot!?” Jack shouted, “Are you fucking kidding me? I knew someone was following me! What the fuck are you doing?” Jack ran toward him and threw his arms around him. “You’re coming to Santa Fe, right?”

Spot grinned. “Just looking out for you, kid. A guy I know knows a guy who knew you was with Medda. So we thought maybe I should kinda tag along, you know, and look out after you. They got me set with food, but I been riding along behind you most of the way.” He nodded at Katherine. “Miss Katherine.”

“Hi, Spot,” she said quietly. “We heard you disappeared when my father’s place caught in fire. It’s good to see you.”

Spot cleared his throat and looked uncomfortably at Charlie and Katherine. “Yeah, well, it seemed like a good time to get away. How you doing, Charlie,” he asked.

“Pretty good,” Charlie said. “Oscar murdered my grandpa.”

“I heard something like that,” said Spot. “Your grandpa was good. He gave me stuff sometimes, you know. It helped.” Charlie looked down at the ground as an awkward silence ensued.

“Stop!” a shout rang out. “They there are! I toldja!” Blue uniforms started hustling down the tracks towards them.

Spot looked up in a panic. “Get outta here,” he said, shoving Jack hard. “You guys get outta here!”

“Not without you!” shouted Jack, grabbing Katherine’s hand. “Come with us!” He lifted Katherine into the nearest boxcar as it started to move. She helped Charlie up as Race leaped up next to him. Charlie and Race held out their hands as Jack and Spot started to run. As soon as Jack flung himself on board, he looked for Spot. Spot had stopped running and put up his hands.

“Kelly!” the cops shouted. “We got you, Kelly!”

“You got me! I surrender!” Spot shouted. “You got Jack Kelly!” he shouted louder. Jack gasped as he watched helplessly as Spot was pushed to the ground and handcuffed. 

_”Who’s the new kid?” asked Spot, spitting his tobacco from their spot across the room._

_”That’s the kid one of ours found last week,” said Blue. “Middle of January and this kid ain’t even got boots. Chimney climber, right? Face all beat to hell, skinniest kid you ever seen. Says he went to get beer for his father one night and when he come back ain’t nobody there. Anyways, we got him some boots and he come live with us.”_

_Spot nodded and spat again. “Needs a coat.”_

_”Yeah, well, shit, Spotty, gimme a chance,” said Blue, staring across the room._

_”What’s his name?” asked Spot._

_”Whadda you care? He ain’t from Brooklyn,” said Blue. Spot shrugged. “Kelly. His name’s Jack Kelly.”_

_Spot shrugged again. “I’ll get him a coat, yeah? Don’t go blabbing about it or I’ll cut your throat.”_

_Spot wiped down the counter again. Even the King of Brooklyn needed another job as he got a little older. He wiped down some glasses and looked around as the place started to empty out in the wee hours of the morning. Just as he was getting his hopes up for a quiet night, another customer came in. Spot exchanged glances with his boss, who lifted his chin at Spot so he’d go see what he wanted. Money was money._

_“Rum,” the man grumbled at Spot, “and make it quick.” Spot poured a glass of rum and pushed it over to him as he gathered the coins from the counter. Downing it in one gulp, the man shoved it back. “Again.” Spot obliged. And obliged. And obliged._

_The fifth time, Spot’s boss came over. “You had about enough, friend,” he said. “Time to go.”_

_“My kid,” he said. “My kid ain’t around to get my stuff no more. He run off. My little Jack, he run off. My little Jack Kelly.”_

_Spot stopped. “How old is your kid,” he asked._

_”He was little when he run off,” said the customer. “Bout five years ago. He ain’t there to bring me my beer or nothing. So I gotta go get it. Gimme another.”_

_Spot came closer. “He ain’t run off. You run off. Time for you to go.”_

_”I ain’t going. Gimme another.”_

_”You’re going. Get out,” said Spot, his voice rising. His boss came over to the other side of the customer and the two of them started to lift him out of his seat._

_”You had too much, friend,” said Spot’s boss. “Time to go.”_

_Kelly roared and pulled out a knife, twisting as they hustled him to the door. “Gimme a drink! Gimme one now!”_

_“You put your little kid on the street, you bastard! He just about froze to death!” shouted Spot. “I ain’t doing nothing more for you!”_

_Kelly twisted again and slashed at Spot, putting a gash in his arm. “My kid run off!”_

_”He didn’t, you sick bastard!” shouted Spot. He grabbed Kelly’s wrist and bent his arm back. The knife went into Kelly and up under his ribs. Spot felt him go limp, and felt his hands get sticky with warm blood. Spot’s boss jumped away when the bulls rushed inside as Kelly fell to the floor, dead. Spot looked up at the cops, the knife still in his hands._


	15. Spotty

The spot directly behind his eyes throbbed. His head was too heavy to lift. He tried to shift a little, but couldn’t move. His shoulder stabbed him as he pulled at the handcuffs holding his hands behind him. He must be chained to the wall somehow. His legs swiped helplessly on the floor in front of him. He stared at the blood stains on his shirt and pants, vaguely remembering getting the shit beat out of him. 

Spot blinked. The rhythm of the train swayed him back and forth a little as he tried to listen to see where he was. He heard a couple of voices and managed to lift his eyes enough to see two guards at a table nearby, playing cards. One took a swig of something before gesturing for the other one to look over at Spot.

“Look who’s up,” he grinned. “My reward is awake.” He stuck his bottle into a hole in the table and got up to come over to Spot and squatted down. “How you feeling, Kelly,” he said quietly. Spot was silent. How was he feeling. Thick. Slow.

He blinked again. “‘M fine,” he muttered. He scraped his foot on the floor, trying to sit up, but only scraping around the dirt in front of him.

“Well, I am happy to hear that,” said the guard. “I need you to feel good when we get back to New York, right?” He grinned back at the other guard. “But we ain’t there yet. No, sir, we’re a long way from New York. So right now I don’t give a fuck how you feel.” He grabbed Spot’s hair and wrenched his head back. Spot held his breath for the hit he knew was coming. It struck hard and snapped his head to the side. Spot bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to breathe too hard. The second hit was harder. Spot opened his mouth to catch his breath. The third hit left him dazed, his face burning as he felt blood drip down onto his shirt. The fourth hit knocked him out again.

Race held Jack back from jumping off the train. “We’re going too fast, Jack! You’ll kill yourself!” Jack jerked himself away and hung on the door, looking back toward the station that was quickly fading.

“I gotta get off! I gotta go get him!” he shouted.

Katherine scrambled over to him to help hold him back. “You can’t help him! Jack, you can’t! They’d just arrest you too! What, do you think they’d trade you? Spot’s a runaway too!” She put her hand on Jack’s cheek to try to get him to look at her. “You can’t help him!”

Jack turned his panicked face toward her at last and tried not to cry. “I gotta help him, Kath,” he repeated.

Charlie pulled at him to sit down next to him as the train hit its top speed. “Jack, listen,” he said, “Spot shouted your name so that you’d know he was gonna be you, right? He decided to do that so you can get away.”

“I didn’t ask him to,” cried Jack. “I don’t need no one doing that kind of thing for me.” He wiped his face hard with his sleeve. “We gotta go back.”

Jack saw Katherine exchange a look with Race and Charlie. “Jack,” she started, “if we go back, you go back to my father. I get married to Milton, and Charlie might end up in prison too. Race might be the only one to escape if he stays away from the city. We can’t help Spot.” She paused. “But we know someone who might be able to help him.”

Charlie grinned. “That’s it, Katherine,” he smiled. “That’s what we’ll do. How much money do we have?”

Kath took off her boot and drew out their little envelope. “Not much. We’ll have to get some,” she said. “But we can, right? How much can a telegraph cost?”

Jack’s face calmed a touch as he leaned forward and kissed her. “We’ll get the money.”

“What do you wanna do, Jacky,” Race asked. “We working, or stealing, or what.” He hung his arms over his knees and interlaced his fingers.

“I don’t know how to steal,” said Charlie. 

Jack grinned. “Are you kidding? You can beg and lie, Charlie, believe me. You’ll make more money than me and Race together.”

Race laughed a little. “With that crutch? You can steal a million bucks and no one would be the wiser.” Charlie scowled a little until Race poked him. “Use what you got, kid. Help us out.” Charlie shook his head, unable to keep from laughing with Race.

Katherine looked at the three of them. “I don’t know how to steal either,” she said nervously.

Jack and Race looked at her, Race tilting his head a little. “You can be my sick little brother. You can beg, maybe,” said Race.

Katherine frowned. “I’ve been the sick little brother. It didn’t go well.” 

“Yeah, but you can just hold out your hand and look sad, right?” asked Jack. “Look sad,” he ordered.

Katherine complied, and Race burst out in laughter. “Now that’s pathetic. Almost as sad as Jacky here used to do. He had a bad day selling, he’d go outside them ladies shops and beg. Boy, the money came rolling in then, didn’t it, Jacky.” Race started to choke a little on his laugh as Jack gave him a half-serious shove.

“Not that much,” he said, giving Katherine an uncomfortable look. “Shaddup.” 

Race reined it in and stopped laughing. “We’ll make some money, one way or the other. Plenty to send a telegraph to Medda.” He turned to Jack. “So what’re we doing, you and me?”

Jack gave him a look. “You and me can work and steal at the same time, yeah?” Race grinned.

Spot awoke again, still rocking with the motion of the train. The lamp swung overhead, moving the shadows around faster than he was used to. He wondered dully how many years he was in for now. Didn’t matter. Jack was free. They’d be pissed when they realized they had the wrong guy, but Jack would be long gone. He would escape Pulitzer’s again, he figured. He’d killed before. He could kill again. If he survived that long. What did it matter, anyway, a guy like him. Pulitzer would probably just beat him to death and that would be that, the end of his rotten life. Like being the king of his newsies had ever gotten him anything. Killing a man was his crowning achievement, he thought bitterly. Helping Jack was the one good thing he could point at. Something about that little kid had grabbed him, even out of all the little kids he’d taken care of. He’d even swung by to see Blue about something dumb just to see Jack wearing the coat he’d dropped off for him. But here Spot was now, convicted murderer. He’d make it up to Jack for however long he happened to live.

A boot kicked his hip, and Spot grunted. “You get a piece of Pulitzer’s daughter, was that it?” asked the guard. “Was it worth it? You screw her good? Where’s she at now, Kelly?”

“Dunno,” mumbled Spot. “She run off.”

“Newspapers say you run off together.” Spot could smell the boozy breath coming down nearer to his face.

“Papes lie,” said Spot, keeping his face down. “She run off without me. You think a girl like that would run off with me?”

“It’s what they said,” said the guard. “Where’s she at?” He kicked Spot again.

Spot gritted his teeth. “Dunno.” The guard leaned in and Spot tried to lean away. He felt his body released from the wall, but the handcuffs still kept him from bringing his arms around front. He fell sideways onto the floor.

“Get up,” the guard ordered. Spot rolled to his knees, but couldn’t get up. He shuffled forward on his knees, trying to get some feeling back. “Get. Up. I said,” the guard repeated. Spot managed to get one foot set, but the rocking of the train tumbled him back onto his side. The second guard came over and the two of them dragged Spot up. His legs felt numb. He licked the blood from his lips and braced himself as best he could.

“Wanted ads said you’d have scars on your back,” breathed the second guard. “Let’s have a look, Kelly.” Spot managed to stay on his feet as they pulled his shirt down toward his wrists. 

“Fuck, Kelly,” said the first. “You don’t learn, do you. Can you learn, huh? Can you learn, Kelly? Or are you the kind that can’t learn less it gets beat into you?” Spot didn’t reply, focusing instead on staying standing.

“Guess you’re the stupid kind,” said the second. “Well guess what. We’re real good teachers.” He grinned at the first. “The first lesson is gonna be how stupid fucks like you shouldn’t run off with rich girls. Got that? Hm?” Spot jerked a nod. “You sure? Let’s make sure, Kelly.” He reached for his baton. “You ready to learn?”

Spot jerked his head again as the blows started to fall. Jack was free. Jack was free. Jack was free. Jack was free. 


	16. The Boys Make Some Money

Katherine kept close as they moved toward the cars with paying passengers. The crowd made her nervous she would lose them, and staying in one place as the “sick little brother” didn’t appeal much anymore. She could keep up. She startled as Jack broke into a sprint toward an overweight man struggling with his suitcases.

“Lemme carry that for you, sir,” Jack said, breaking into a broad smile. “Just tell me where to take ‘em.”

The man drew out a handkerchief and patted his face. “Right over there,” he pointed. “Take my things over to the driver over there.” Jack bent down and gathered up the luggage, tucking one under his arm and holding two others by the handle. Kath was impressed with his speed, but of course he must have done this before, silly girl. Jack hauled the suitcases over to the carriage as instructed. The man walked more slowly. Race bumped into him, excused himself, and went hurrying on down the tracks. Clumsy of him, Katherine thought, watching Race ask a well-to-do woman if he could take her bags. Race scooped them up as Jack returned from the carriage with his tip, bumping into Race’s customer as he approached another man. Katherine found herself standing quietly at the corner of the depot, watching the two of them.

“Move along, son,” said a voice in her ear, “unless you got a ticket.” Katherine froze. She didn’t dare turn around or speak.

She left her spot quickly and went up to an older woman. Katherine pointed at the bag and gestured that she would take it. The woman gladly handed it over and Katherine followed her silently. When they reached the woman’s waiting carriage, Katherine put the bag on the back and held out her hand as she had seen Race and Jack do. She forced herself not to smile too much as she got a tip. Well, that hadn’t been too bad.

“You, boy,” a shout came over. Katherine didn’t look over. “Hey, boy, you carrying bags or not?” Katherine looked around, eyes wide, but Jack and Race were much farther away. Katherine took a quick peek at the shouter, and saw him looking impatiently at her. She nodded and headed over to him. “Take these right here.” Katherine looked at the trunks he was pointing at and gulped. There was no way she could even begin to move those. Desperately, she looked for Jack and sighed with relief as she saw him head over towards her.

“I’ll get those, sir,” said Jack. He grabbed the handles of the first trunk and indicated to Kath to put a lighter bag on top. “Be right back for those others.” He winked at Katherine as he hefted the trunk a little and carried it away.

Race appeared out of nowhere to whisk Katherine around the corner. “Stay back here,” he ordered. “Hang on to this,” he said, handing Kath a pocketful of watches and a few wallets, “and be ready to run onto the train when we say, got it?” She nodded, speechless.

Charlie, she wondered. Where was he? Did he know to be ready? She scanned the platform for him, her jaw nearly dropping as she saw him at the end of the platform, sitting on the ground, his crutch prominently displayed on his lap, his hand out, his face streaked with tears. His cap was filling rapidly with coins. That little... She couldn’t believe these boys. She knew Race and Jack knew how to steal, but she never imagined seeing them get so much so quickly, and with big grins on their faces. And Charlie evidently had no shame at all. It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud as she slipped down toward the boxcars they’d be jumping on to pretty soon.

“What’d we get, Race,” Jack asked, running his sleeve over his sweaty face. He pulled on the front of his shirt to keep it from sticking in the heat. “Anything good?”

“I’ll say,” said Kath, taking out Race’s stash. “You two are awful.”

Jack whistled and grinned as he looked at Race’s loot and added his own, emptying his pockets. “Hey, we worked for some of it,” he said. 

Katherine shook her head. “Those poor people. They thought they were doing a good thing, letting you carry their bags.”

Jack snorted. “Yeah, with such great tips. Rich folks is lousy tippers, Kath. I ain’t sorry. They won’t even miss nothing, and we get to eat. And we can send the telegram at the next town. What’s wrong with that?”

“You seemed so happy with the tips,” said Kath weakly.

Race rolled his eyes. “We ain’t gonna get mad at a tip, Kath. Besides, you gotta look like you’re so grateful for the penny tip they ain’t gonna notice your hand in their pocket. Me and Jacky run this all the time when we was kids.”

Jack almost felt sorry for Kath as she closed her eyes. “Hey, Charlie, how’d you make out, you pathetic kid?” he grinned.

Charlie unrolled his cap and let the money spill out. “A crutch and some tears got me all this,” he said. “Grandpa would kill me.”

“You think so? You two had a pretty good racket going on back in New York,” said Jack, pooling the money with his and Race’s. “Getting folks to think you was dumb and he was crazy.”

Charlie shrugged. “Yeah, but he didn’t have me out begging like that. At least I had my eggs.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “You’ll have eggs again someday, Charlie. But good job with the tears. That was a nice touch.”

Charlie looked down and closed his mouth as they fell silent. Race slid over to Charlie and put his arm around him. “You done good, Charlie, with the crying. It helped us out. You can do that for us some more sometime, yeah?” Charlie leaned his head on Race’s shoulder and stayed quiet.

Katherine watched Charlie and felt Jack’s arm come around her. She leaned against his sweaty shirt and turned her face up to kiss his still sweaty cheek. He looked down at her, not smiling anymore as he returned the kiss.

“You mad?” he asked, his lips by her ear.

Katherine shook her head. No, she wasn’t mad. She thought about the pennies she’d given out as tips in what felt like a lifetime ago.


	17. Is This Better?

Spot blinked as the cell door slid open. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in there, waiting to be transported to the jail from the train station. The hours? days? had passed without interruption, his only relief from the guards on the train since he’d been arrested. 

“Get up, Kelly,” said his guard. “You got a visitor.” Spot struggled to his feet only to have both guards drag him out and handcuff him. A deep punch to his gut took all the air out of him. He gasped as they hit him there again. “Remember your manners, Kelly. Time for us to collect, got it?”

Spot tried to nod as he searched for air. He let them drag him into another room, where they propped him up between them. “Here he is, Mr. Pulitzer,” said the guard proudly. 

The silence was long enough that Spot could finally take a breath. He peered out from his swollen eyes to see Pulitzer standing in front of him. 

“Conlon,” Pulitzer said. 

Spot had long known he was a dead man. He gathered up his last remaining nerve and spat in Pulitzer’s face. Pulitzer slowly took out his handkerchief and wiped his face as the guards looked nervously at him, obviously confused.

“This isn’t Jack Kelly. This is Sean Conlon, you idiots.” Pulitzer glared at them. “The reward for him is half that for Jack Kelly.” He pointed at Spot. “You and I will do some catching up, Conlon. In the meantime, I will leave you with these two, ah, disappointed gentlemen.”

Medda folded the telegram and slipped it back into her purse. Judge Matthews was late. But then, he liked to be discreet. Medda sipped her tea and waited some more. The brocaded curtains were nice and thick, the better to absorb sound, and the better to shield from peering eyes. The lamps were turned down low for the evening. Business in the city was usually entertaining, but tonight had to be educational, she sighed to herself. She reached into her purse and fingered her little black book. Should she have it out on the table? No, no need to be brutish.

The curtain to her booth swayed a little as Judge Matthews quickly entered and took his seat. “Medda,” he said, leaning over the table to kiss her cheek, “do tell me what this is all about.”

“Tea?” she asked. “Or straight to business?”

“Business, please,” he said. “I’m late getting home as it is.” He glanced nervously out into the dining area.

“Very well,” she said. “You have a case coming up of Sean Conlon, a convicted murderer as a juvenile who served nearly his entire term for Joe Pulitzer until he escaped. He’s been caught. I want you to let him go.”

The judge stared at her and started to laugh. “You want me to look the other way for a murderer and escapee? Are you mad? He’ll get at least seven years back with Pulitzer.”

Medda gently laid her little black book on the table. “When is your next visit with my girls, judge?”

Judge Matthews pressed his lips together and sat back. “Why are you so interested in murderers, anyway?”

”I’m not,” she said. “But this time I am. Don’t send him back to Pulitzer. Have him finish his sentence somewhere else, then.”

“Fine. Three years at Sing Sing.” His dark eyes glittered. “You’re cashing in a lot of chips, here, Medda.”

“Six months,” said Medda. “And I’ll make three appointments for you on the house.”

The judge leaned forward, almost ready to speak. He closed his mouth, pointed at the book, and left, jamming his hat on low as he swiftly left the restaurant.

Judge Matthews sat back and looked at his docket for the day. Aha. There he was. Conlon. Long juvenile record, culminating in murder. Chose Pulitzer’s apprenticeship, he chuckled. But nothing else until now. Accused of burning the barn down and escaping near the time of the disappearance of Katherine Pulitzer and another apprentice. Curious. How did Medda get involved, he wondered. He fingered the sleeve of his robe, relishing its plush texture. He liked his life, his wife even, and the prestige and perks of being a respected judge. It felt good, people doffing their hats to him, getting dinners on the house, and Medda’s best girls. 

“Judge?” 

He looked up at the prosecutor. “Yes, yes, next case. Move it along.”

He looked over at the clanking of chains as Sean Conlon was brought in. Officers often had difficulty subduing criminals, this he knew. Conlon limped in front of him, stopping as the bailiff yanked at him. He swayed and looked straight ahead. He hadn’t even tried to clean the dried blood out of his hair or off his face. His stained shirt hung off of one shoulder, held together by one button near the bottom, revealing a stunning array of bruising. His pants were ripped at the knees and spattered with what appeared to be more blood.

“It says here you said you were Jack Kelly,” Judge Matthews started.

“Yes, sir,” said Spot quietly.

“He ran away too, correct? Why did you say you were he?”

“I’m pretty dumb, your honor,” said Spot. “Musta been knocked on the head pretty good.”

“Do you know where he is?” Matthews demanded.

“No, sir,” said Spot.

“Why did you burn down Mr. Pulitzer’s barn and run away mere months before your sentence was over?”

“I didn’t burn down no barn,” Spot mumbled. “Like I said, I’m pretty dumb. Guess I didn’t count the years right.”

Judge Matthews put his hands together in front of him and matched the fingertips. He looked out at the gallery, noting Pulitzer’s intense stare. He sighed. Poor coverage of this case in Pulitzer’s newspaper, or personal humiliation. 

“Your kind has always been difficult,” said Matthews. “Defense?” He looked at the defense attorney, who looked up and shrugged.

“Very well,” Matthews sighed. “Two years at Sing Sing.” He slammed down his gavel and hoped he’d made everyone happy enough.


	18. Words Matter

Kath relaxed against Jack as they watched the landscape rush by. Race and Charlie leaned against the wall, watching as the rain splashed into the open boxcar. Mile after mile passed by, the flat landscape never changing.

“Let’s play a game,” Kath said, startling all three of them. “I’ll start. I say something I’m packing for a trip, and then the next person says what I say, and add something. The first person to make a mistake loses. I’m going on a trip and I’m packing a necklace. You’re next, Charlie.”

“Why me?” Charlie whined. Kath gave him a look. “Okay, fine. I’m going on a trip and I’m packing a necklace and a chicken.” He looked at Race.

“I’m going on a trip and I’m packing a necklace and a chicken and a blanket,” said Race. 

Jack groaned. “I’m going on a trip and I’m packing a necklace and a chicken and a blanket, and um, food,” he said. 

Kath looked at him, annoyed. “It has to be something specific. Anyway, I’m going on a trip and I’m packing a necklace and a chicken and a blanket and food and a pair of boots.” Jack returned her annoyed look, but didn’t say anything. Food was specific. And who packs their boots?

Charlie started in. “I’m going on a trip and I’m packing a necklace and a chicken and a blanket and food and a pair of boots, and, uh, a frying pan.” 

“I’m going on a trip and I’m packing a necklace and a chicken and a blanket and food and a pair of boots and a frying pan, and money.” He looked at Jack triumphantly as Jack nodded his approval.

Jack paused before starting. What did people pack for trips, he wondered. 

“Let’s go,” said Charlie. “Hurry up.”

Jack looked at him crossly. “Gimme a minute.” He thought some more, feeling Kath getting even more annoyed with him. “Well, shit.”

”Don’t pack that,” said Charlie, grinning.

“It’s specific, ain’t it?” answered Jack, grinning back. Their heads turned as the train began to slow. Jack’s grin grew wider. “Come on, Kath, before we stop.”

Kath took a breath and rushed her words together. “Fine. I’m going on a trip and I’m packing a necklace and a chicken and a blanket and food and a pair of boots and a frying pan and money and shit.”

The boys let out a roar of approval as Charlie reached out to shake her hand. Race clapped using his whole arm span, and Jack leaned forward to kiss her ear.

“Conlon,” the guard shouted down the row of cells. “Get your lazy ass up. You got a visitor.” Spot raised his head, not sure he heard right. Who the fuck would be visiting him? He got off his bunk and met the guard at the cell door and got cuffed before being led down to the visiting hall. Pulitzer, probably, here to shoot him and be done with it.

The guard pushed him down in a chair and chained his wrists to the table. “Wait here,” he snickered. Spot looked around at the other visitors. Wives? Some old men, here to see their sons. Well, that wouldn’t be the case for him. He looked up as someone drew closer to his table and stared.

“Denton?” he said. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He rattled his chains. “I can’t exactly get up or nothing.”

Denton sat down next to him. “I read about you in the paper. Figured I’d spend my Sunday seeing how you were doing.”

Spot stared some more, speechless. How was he doing? He had no idea how Jack survived in this fucking place. He swallowed. “Good,” he said. “Ain’t dead yet.” He tried to laugh.

Denton clapped him on the shoulder, lifting his hand quickly as Spot gave a slight grimace. “I brought a newspaper. Thought I’d read some to you.” He unfolded it on the table, spreading it wide. Spot watched in disbelief. Denton was going to stay and read? Why?

“Hey,” said a guard, “what’s the big idea? You can’t be doing that.”

Spot lowered his head as Denton turned to look at the guard. “I’m just going read the news. You’re welcome to listen if you like.” Spot tensed and waited to be hit for Denton’s rudeness, but nothing happened. Later, Conlon. It’ll happen later. They’re not gonna hit you in front of the visitors, you stupid fuck.

As the footsteps moved on, Spot heard Denton turn back in his chair. “You can look up now, Spot. He’s gone,” said Denton quietly. “I’ll read, and you follow along. I’ll tell you where I’m starting on the page.” 

Spot chuckled. “Forget it, Denton. I ain’t getting outta here alive, you know that. Besides, you know I ain’t the book type.”

Denton smoothed the page. “Yes, you are. Top left corner with the word that starts with the t, got it?”

Better than staring at his ceiling again, so fine. Spot gave the slightest of nods, and let himself relax just a little, breathing for the first time. He listened closely as Denton read slowly, concentrating for the entire hour. The whistle blew and Denton folded up his newspaper.

“You want me to visit again, Spot?” Denton asked.

Spot nodded. “Fuck yes.”


	19. This Is A Disturbing Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-graphic references to prostitution. This is a sad and disturbing chapter, folks. Stay safe.

“Charlie, go in there and see what you can get begging a little. Remember to limp a little extra,” Jack ordered, pointing his chin at the grocery store across the street. Charlie nodded silently and headed over, his crutch slipping a little in the mud. Charlie wouldn’t get much, but maybe he could get something. “Race, stay here with Kath and wait for him.”

Race leaned against the wall under the awning. “Sure. And what’re you gonna do?” 

“Get some work, I hope,” said Jack. “We gotta get some money. Ain’t no stops big enough anymore for stealing like we done.”

“I can work, Jacky,” said Race. “I don’t gotta stand around here doing nothing. I can beg too if I gotta.”

“Charlie can get more begging on his own and you know it,” said Jack. “Just watch for him. And I ain’t leaving Kath alone.” He pulled his cap down to keep the rain off his face, and glanced down the street. 

“Don’t I get a say?” asked Kath. “I’ll go with you. I can still be the sick little brother.” She coughed more convincingly than Jack would have liked.

Jack sighed. “You can stay dry here. I don’t want no one getting sick.”

“Except you,” said Kath sarcastically. “I’m coming with you.”

Race grinned. “Fine. I’ll stay here nice and dry and wait for helpless Charlie.” 

“Just watch out for him, is all I’m saying,” said Jack. Raced sighed, shaking his head, and slid to the wooden sidewalk, closing his eyes.

Jack led Kath out into the rain, down the wide dirt path that served as the main street, wishing she would just stay behind. This town was pretty small. Hard to hide around here. Still, Kath had hung in there, even almost three days after their food had run out. Santa Fe was getting close, but not that close. Katherine was starting to look a little pale. Charlie had all but stopped talking, and Race had shot Jack some worried looks on the train. Something had to give and they both knew it. Jack went around back to a saloon as someone was coming out the back door.

“Mister, you got any work?” Jack called. “My little brother’s sick here and we need some money for medicine.” Katherine coughed.

“Fuck off. Don’t need no tramps in my place.” 

Jack stopped short, putting put his arm to slow Kath down. He ran his thumb under his nose, debating whether to ask again. He felt the rain run down his face as Kath watched him. Sometimes they’d give in. He opened his mouth to ask again, but the man stepped toward him first.

“I said, fuck off.” The man reached into his pocket and took out a knife. “You hear me?” Jack backed off, his hands up in the air.

After two more tries at the bars next door, Jack turned to Katherine. “This ain’t gonna work. Go back to Race and tell him I’ll be along. You’re getting wet, too.” As Kath started to protest, Jack put his hands on her shoulders. “Please just go back. I’ll come back soon.”

Katherine frowned. “What’re you going to do, Jack? Are you going to steal? I can help divert people, you know.” She coughed realistically.

Jack gave her a hard look. “Just let me handle it. We need money and food and I’m gonna get it, okay? Just go back to Race. You don’t sound so good.”

“Why are you acting so strange?” Katherine asked suspiciously. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re up to.” She looked up at him, rain dripping from her face, eyes narrowing.

“You wanna starve? Is that what you want?” Jack whispered loudly through gritted teeth, his neck straining. “I know what I’m doing. You don’t. Now get lost.”

Kath’s mouth dropped open. She swung out her hand and slapped Jack across the face, her face tight with anger. She turned and stumbled down the street, her fists clenched. Jack watched her go, rubbing his cheek. Focus, Kelly. It had been a long time, but he hadn’t come this far just to starve Kath to death.

Jack set his jaw, unbuttoned the top buttons of his now soaked shirt, lifted his cap, ran his fingers through his wet hair, and went into the closest saloon.

Race looked up in the dim light as he saw Katherine approaching. Alone. He sat up straighter and nudged Charlie. Katherine stormed over and sat down angrily, not looking at anyone.

“Kath? Where’s Jack?” Race asked.

Kath snorted. “Stealing, I think. He wouldn’t tell me. He actually told me to get lost! After all this. I slapped his little know-it-all face.”

“What do you mean, he told you to get lost?” Race was alarmed now, knowing well what Jack was probably doing but hoping he was missing something.

“Did you get any food, Charlie,” Kath asked.

Charlie shook his head. “He said he could tell a fake limp when he saw one. I even offered to show him my ankle, but he told me to get out or he’d get the sheriff. So I beat it.”

“Kath, what do you mean, he told you to get lost?” Race repeated, more loudly.

Kath scowled. “I don’t know. No one would give him any work, and I said I could help him steal, and then he got all angry, asking me if I wanted to starve, and the he knew what he was doing.”

Race bit his lip and thought fast. “You two all right here by yourselves? I gotta go get him. Now.” He jumped up and met Charlie’s eyes. “You got your knife?”

“Always,” said Charlie.

Race took off down the muddy street, praying he’d find Jack in time. They’d be fine. They always were. Tomorrow would be better, somehow. No sign of Jack in the first saloon, or the second. Or the third. Fuck.

He ran up to the bartender at the third saloon. “You seen a guy? Shorter than me, brown hair?”

The bartender shook his head. “That could be anybody, kid. You buying something?” Race looked around desperately. He tilted his face up to scan the upstairs bedrooms, stopping as he saw Jack come out from an upstairs hallway, tucking in his shirt. Jack looked down and saw him, and froze. Race felt the tears come, and Jack got blurry as he came down the steps and led Race outside.

“I had to, Race,” said Jack. 

“No, you didn’t,” said Race hoarsely. “You didn’t. We’d be fine. Something would have worked out tomorrow.” He grabbed Jack’s shirt. “You didn’t have to.”

Jack pushed out his lips and looked beyond Race. “I got some money. Lemme get some food here and we can bring it back to Charlie and Kath.”

“I ain’t hungry,” said Race.

“Bullshit.” Jack turned and went inside, calling out his order as he went up to the bar. Race felt the tears spill over as he stood outside, furious with himself.

Jack came back out, the food in a sack. He put his arm around Race’s shoulders as they slowly walked back to Charlie and Kath. “Better me than you, Race,” said Jack.

“No,” said Race. “No.” Jack squeezed his shoulder. There was no sound save for the squelching of their boots in the mud as they walked past the still-open saloons. They could make out the shadows of Kath and Charlie on the raised sidewalk, waiting for them in the dark. Race felt his throat tighten, praying they wouldn’t ask any questions.

“I got some work after all,” called Jack. “Just had to ask a couple more times.” Charlie and Katherine smiled as he handed them the food from the bag. Race took his sandwich but didn’t eat.

“Eat it,” said Jack. “It’s the least you can do.”

Race lifted the sandwich to his mouth and choked it down.


	20. Trying

Jack held his breath as the train slowed. Cops everywhere, their flashlights bobbing in the dark, trying to catch them, but it didn’t matter. They were here. Santa Fe.

Katherine gasped for breath as they finally stopped running. They ducked into the abandoned building and collapsed on the floor, laughing and wheezing.

“We did it! We fucking did it!” shouted Jack. Katherine smiled as she continued to catch her breath. He was ecstatic. As quiet, if not cagey, as he’d been recently, it was worth it to see him this happy. It had been a little odd, the night they had fought. She’d tried to make up, snuggling close. He’d held her quietly. The next morning she’d woken up, cold. Jack and Race were sitting by the boxcar opening, staring out at the morning, silent, their arms wrapped around their knees. Good morning, she had called, startled when Race sent a glare her way. As Jack had crawled back to their corner and fallen asleep, she gave Race a questioning look. 

“You got no idea how much Jacky’s done for us,” Race had growled in a whisper, following Jack and gently taking Jack’s hand as he lay down facing him. Jack had clutched at it before relaxing again. She did know. Didn’t she? She’d told him she knew.

Jack held Kath quietly, the train rocking them as they sped south. He knew he wouldn't sleep tonight. Once Kath was asleep, he slowly disentangled himself and went to sit at the opening, his legs dangling out. He stared out into the darkness most of the night, letting the familiar feeling creep into his mind and settle in. The dull ache of being trapped wrapped around him like a blanket. What else was he supposed to do... He'd watched Blue come back some nights, quietly setting sacks of food on the table before going to his bunk and rolling to the wall, his shoulders shaking. Years later, Jack had learned to do the same. The flat landscape rushed by, the moonlight outlining the empty expanse. Jack wondered what he had done for his mother to like that feeling more than she liked him.

_In the sleet, Jack and Race went door-to-door. Jack pounded on the unpainted door, staring up in surprise as it opened. The woman turned pale. Jack was speechless._

_"Shut the goddam door, Molly," a man shouted, coming up behind her. "What the fuck do you want?" he thundered at Jack._

_Jack shook as he took a paper from under his arm. "Pape, mister?" He stared at his mother some more, not quite believing his eyes. She turned away from him, going back to the parlor full of women. The door slammed in Jack's face._

Jack heard Race come up to sit with him. "How you doing, Jacky," Race asked.

Jack shrugged. "We ate good," he said.

"I know. Thanks," said Race. "Things'll be different in Santa Fe." Jack was silent. "You still thinking?"

"Yeah," said Jack. He drew up his knees to his chest and laced his fingers in front of them.

"We was real little," said Race. "Maybe it just looked like her. Maybe you just wanted it to be her."

"It was her," said Jack. They'd had this conversation a thousand times, but Jack felt better to have it one more time.

_He ran back to the place where they were going to meet up, crying. Race was waiting, eager to show him the money he'd made, but putting the money back in his pocket as he saw Jack running. Race listened as Jack choked out his story, taking his sleeve to wipe Jack's face before buying him a doughnut. He told Jack about the circus show he'd seen, talking until Jack stopped crying._

Jack put his head down, willing himself not to cry yet again, but unable to stop. Race moved closer, also putting his knees up and lacing his fingers in front of them. "It's gonna be nice in Santa Fe, Jacky. We're gonna get good jobs, yeah? No more selling papes, no more stealing, no more of what you done for us. No more jail. We're gonna do good, Jack, you hear me? Hm?" He tried to look under Jack's arms to catch his eye. "Ain't no one gonna beat on you again." Jack looked up at Race, his face hopeful. Race smiled at him as he reached out and wiped his tears. "No one," he repeated, lacing his hands again and looking out at the lightening sky.

Kath called out good morning, startling them both. Race turned and glared at her.

She’d do something for Jack now, she decided, breathing hard, bending over her knees. Maybe she could be the one to help provide for once. Jack always thought he knew best. Well, now that they were here she could stop hiding and be helpful.

Race pulled on Charlie’s crutch so Charlie would fall on him. Charlie yelped and wrestled with Race, grinning as they rolled across the floor. “Jack, help!” shouted Race. Jack piled on, trying to pin them both and kind of succeeding, Kath noticed as she slipped out the door into the night.

She headed for the saloons as she remembered Jack had done. She made sure to swagger a little, her hands in her pockets, as she banged on a back door. She set her mouth as a tall, broad shouldered man came to the door.

“Got any work, mister?” she asked, lowering her voice a little. “I’m passing through and my little brother...” Shit. She didn’t have a little brother to point at. Nice, Kath.

The man held the door open. Kath stepped in, trying not to face any lamps. She felt an enormous hand on her shoulder as he shoved her toward the corner and tossed her a rag. “Clean them spittoons. Pump’s out back. Hurry up, we got lots of customers tonight.”

Kath looked at the pile in the corner and nearly vomited. Clean. Them. At the pump. She took a big breath and gathered as many as she could in her arms before stumbling down the steps to the pump by the back door. They would sparkle, she promised herself. As she finished each one, she held it in the light shining from the kitchen to make sure it was really clean. Well, as much as she could tell, they were clean. She loaded them up in her arms and brought them back in, tripping over the threshold and dropping them on the floor.

As she scrambled after them, the man returned. “Ain’t you done yet? Them’s spittoons, you stupid shit. They don't take all night.” He kicked the rest over to her. “Finish them up fast.” Kath caught them as best she could and took them outside, washing them faster this time. She hurried back in with them, hoping the boys hadn’t noticed she was gone this long. She didn’t think she’d have to work this much, frankly. 

She set the clean spittoons on the counter and shouted, “Hey mister, I’m done!”

The man came back over. “These ain’t clean, dumbass.”

Katherine sucked in her breath. “You said to do them faster, so I did.”

He held one up. “Faster but still clean. You really is on the dumb side, ain’t ya. Get lost.”

“But I cleaned them,” Kath protested. “You said...”

“You telling me what I said? You said you was looking for work and some lie about some kid that ain’t out there,” the man snarled. “I ain’t paying for no shit work.” He raised his meaty hand and smacked Katherine hard across the face.

She gasped, astounded by the pain, holding herself up in the door frame. “But I need money,” she managed to say.

“The fuck you do. Some kind of game you’re playing. Hands like yours ain’t never worked a day in your life. Now get lost, ya lying little shit.” And he hit Katherine again, knocking her down the steps into the muddy yard.

Katherine sat for a moment, her head spinning. She gently touched her cheek and winced, the throbbing getting worse as the tears built up in her eyes. What would she tell the boys. What would Jack say? She thought back to the many days she’d seen Jack working at home, his face nearly always bruised. She thought of the times she’d tried to help him feel better after he’d endured far more than a bruised face... The hurt on her face was more than she had ever imagined, never mind anything worse... Would she would bruise like Jack did? 

Well, there was no helping it now. She had to get back, empty handed. She forced herself up and walked slowly in the shadows back to the building they had hidden in.


	21. Charlie and Race Make a Bet

Jack rushed outside, head whipping from one side to the other. Where in the world...

“Split up, fellas,” he ordered. “Find her.” He dashed down the street, dodging in and out of the glow of the street lamps. Nothing. He doubled back, checking the alleys. Still nothing. His head whirled, trying to think like Katherine. Impossible. She’d been mad at him to ordering her back the other night. She’d want to prove something? He dashed back down the street, stopping as he saw a smaller figure skirting along the shadows.

“Kath?” he called. The figure froze. “It’s me, Jack.” The figure unfroze and dashed toward him. He stumbled backwards, grabbing her and bracing themselves against a lamppost. “What happened? Where have you been?” He took her face and tilted it toward the light. “Who did that to you? Who, Kath? I’ll kill him. Who did this?” he demanded as Kath burst into tears. 

“Who did it? Take me,” he almost shouted. He was furious with himself, letting someone to do this to her. His pulse began to race as he got ready to fight.

Kath shook her head. “No. Please, Jack, let’s just go back.” Jack tilted his head, wanting very much to punch someone in the face. Kath took his hand and pulled him down the street, forcing him to exhale and follow her.

Charlie and Race sat out on the stoop, ejected by Jack. 

“Bet you anything Jack and Kath fight again,” said Charlie, jerking his thumb toward the door.

Race raised his eyebrows. “Anything?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re on,” said Race. Charlie didn’t know shit about betting, especially when it came to Jack. “They don’t fight, you give me your crutch.”

“Fuck you,” said Charlie. “They fight, you gotta say ‘My name is Race and Charlie can kick my ass’ for the next three days whenever you meet someone.”

Race grinned. “They don’t fight, you gotta say ‘My name is Charlie and I can kick your ass’ for the next three days whenever you meet someone.” He spat in his hand and held it out to Charlie. Charlie grimaced and did the same, shaking Race’s hand.

Kath buried her head in her hands, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Jack knelt in front of her, staring in disbelief. “You did what?”

“You heard me,” she mumbled.

Jack’s jaw remained dropped. “Why, Kath? I ain’t been perfect, I know that. But shit, girl. You got any idea what coulda happened?”

Kath didn’t look up. “You didn’t want me to help you steal the other night, for no reason. And then Race has been so mad at me and I don’t know why, and I felt bad about slapping you, and I just wanted to do something for once,” she rushed. “I just tried what I saw you do.” Why was Jack so upset, she wondered. She was hurt, yes, but she'd been trying to help. She thought he'd be happy and proud about that, not upset.

Jack bit his lip. “Kath, if I seen a guy three times my size at the door, I ain’t going in, you know what I’m saying? You was pretty brave, but damn. You ever work before like that?” he asked. He tried to remember the first time he'd done that. What was he, eight or nine? Big enough for the older newsies to tell him he had to figure stuff out since he wasn't that little anymore. He'd learned fast to stay away from the big guys, unless they were old. But he hadn't known that right away, either. Jack remembered landing on his face on the pavement, so maybe he hadn't looked all that different from Kath that time.

Kath shook her head. “I did offer,” she reminded Jack, “but you said no. For no good reason.”

Jack pressed his lips together. “I had a reason.” Well, fuck. Now he’d lose her forever. Not like she’d be losing much, he reminded himself. So much for love. “Kath, um, you’re gonna hate it. And I’ll get you a ticket home, I swear. I’ll pay for a first class ticket home for you.” The lump in his throat nearly choked him. Lie, Kelly. Think of a lie. His brain froze as he tried to think of an excuse, of any other explanation for the other night.

Katherine looked up finally. “What are you talking about? Did you kill someone?” She tried to say it as a joke, but stopped when she saw the sick look on Jack’s face. Had he killed someone? Was that what Race meant?

He opened his mouth a couple of times. “I, uh... Kath, you saw, ain’t no one give me any work, right?” Tears pricked at him. Santa Fe ain’t gonna be no better than New York, Kelly. Kath waited, her face increasingly anxious.

Jack looked up at the ceiling. “I didn’t steal nothing that night. I bought the food.”

Kath blinked. “That’s your big secret? You hid some money and then bought food with it?”

“No.” Jesus God. “I, um... I... I earned it. I went back to a saloon and I uh... I sold...” Jack stopped. Either she could figure out or not from there. He waited for a slap.

Kath waited for him to continue. Jack had nothing to sell that she knew of. She waited a little more and watched Jack’s face, begging her to understand what he was saying. He sold what? Suddenly her eyes got wide. Her mouth dropped open. “Jack,” she whispered, “Jack, no. You didn’t.” Did boys do that kind of thing? She knew women did, of course. Jack closed his eyes, knowing the slap would come now for sure. 

The silence stretched out for a long while. Jack opened his eyes a little, wondering what she was doing. She was still, staring at him in shock. He looked down, wishing she would respond somehow. Get angry, cry, hit, whatever. What do you do when you don't get any answer, he wondered.

"Kath..." he started. He had no idea what else to say. "I had to. It was the only way." He picked at his hands.

"No," she whispered. "Is that what Race was talking about? When he said I had no idea what you'd done for us?" Jack looked to the side and gave a tiny nod. Kath slumped back against the wall. Once again the silence fell for a long while.

Jack ran his wrist under his nose and looked up at the ceiling again. "I did it back in New York too, when the little guys was hungry. Or me, if I couldn't take it no more. I ain't such a hero now, huh. Raising the price of papes meant I'd be doing more of that, so here's your big hero, taking on your dad. Like I said, I'll get you a ticket home once I get the money," he said, his voice rasping.

Kath brought his face down to look at her. "Look at me, Jack." Jack refused. "Don't ever do that again, promise? We can always figure something out, together." 

Jack finally looked at her. "That means you don't go off by yourself neither, trying to fix something on your own. You got lucky, yeah?" 

"I didn't figure anything out," she said, with a regretful smile. "I just got thrown out with nothing to show for it."

“You ever get hit before?” Jack asked. He bet not, and sure enough, she shook her head. What kind of life is that easy, he wondered. “Hurts, don’t it?”

Kath laughed a little, nodding. "It does. It hurt a lot." Jack leaned forward and kissed her bruised cheek as she reached for his face. "I won't ever hurt you again, Jack Kelly."

"Good," he murmured, moving to her mouth. "Now we can make up." He reached to take off her shirt as she reached for his.

Race peered in through a crack in the wall, the lamplight providing just enough illumination for him to see if they could go in. They could not. He grinned, looking at Charlie. "You lost, asshole. They ain't exactly fighting in there."

Charlie turned and peered in through the same crack. "Good thing I was raised on a farm," he said.


	22. Romeo

Charlie watched the dust float through the air. He kept still, not minding that Race had flung both his arm and his leg over him during the night. It felt odd, staying still as they slept. He thought back to his bed at home, where he would wake up each morning to the sound of his grandpa getting dressed in the bedroom next to his. Charlie had liked getting up early with him, going through their routine without much talking. Charlie's choice, whether to go with him to town every now and then. Funny how that seemed like such a long trip, and now he was in Santa Fe. He smiled. Grandpa would be proud of him, keeping up with the bigger boys. Charlie walked around his kitchen at home in his mind, going down into the cellar, then out to the barn. He thought he'd live there the rest of his life, and now... He saw his grandpa again, smiling at him, then dead on the floor with blood in his mouth. Charlie shook his head, trying to change the picture.

"Hey, kid," Jack whispered, looking up over Kath's shoulder. "Let's get up." Charlie looked at him, startled, and then moved Race's arm and leg off of him. He got up slowly and quietly, gently placing his crutch on the floor so he wouldn't wake the others. He followed Jack outside and sat on the stoop.

"What're we gonna do now, Jack?" Charlie asked, watching Jack stretch out on the steps next to him and lean back on his elbows. The dust from the street had settled on the steps overnight, and Jack's elbows and pants were already smeared with another layer of dust.

"You still got the name Miss Medda gave us?" Jack asked.

"That was for someone in Kansas City," Charlie replied. "We, uh, we didn't really stick around."

"Oh," said Jack. "Yeah." He was quiet. "Well, we should get some money and send her another telegram. We gotta find out what happened to Spotty." He glanced up at Charlie. "Don't worry, I'll find work today. There's gotta be something around here."

Charlie looked down at his grimy hands and then gestured up and down Jack's body. "Don't you think we should get cleaned up or something?"

Jack grinned. "You think folks is gonna hire me to work in some office? I look like a banker to you? Shit, Charlie, you ain't been paying attention." He sat up and rested his arms on his knees. "I should get going. Tell the rest I'm out looking for work. And tell ‘em they ain’t got nothing to worry about." He reached out and punched Charlie on the shoulder before settling his cap on his head. He ran his wrist under his nose and stood up. "See ya later."

Jack looked over Charlie's shoulder as he stepped off the stoop and frowned. The shadow had moved just beyond the stoop. He took a step forward and craned his neck a little to get a better look. Well, hell. He reached out and turned Charlie around a bit so he could see too.

"Kid," Jack said quietly. "Kid, get up. I ain't gonna hurt ya." The shadow didn't move. Jack stayed where he was and winked at Charlie. "I can see you, you know. Come on, get up. Ain't no one gonna touch ya."

A small, dark-haired boy peered up at Jack before putting his hand out on the stoop to stand up. 

"What's your name, kid?" Jack asked. "I'm Jack. This is Charlie."

"Romeo."

"Rom--??!" Charlie started, stopping as Jack jabbed him in the ribs. “Ow, stop.”

"Hey, Romeo," Jack said. "You wanna sit here with us and tell us what you're doing here?" He sat back down next to Charlie, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles again, leaning back on his elbows once more. Romeo eyed Charlie's crutch. Jack followed his gaze, took Charlie's crutch, and tossed it to the other end of the stoop.

"Hey..." Charlie said, giving Jack an annoyed look. Jack shushed him and looked back over at Romeo. Romeo took a step forward as Jack tried not to sigh. How many times had he seen this, he wondered. Jack looked more closely. Six, maybe seven years old, he guessed. Bruises, yes, but not too bad. The shirt was too small and the pants too big, but they weren't ripped and he did have boots on. Not the worst Jack had ever seen, but not the best, either. Still.

He held out his hand to Romeo. "Come here. Let's have a look at you." Romeo gave Charlie a sideways look and skirted around to Jack. "You got folks?" Romeo didn’t answer. "You got a place to stay?" Romeo gave a little nod. "Uh huh. And where's that at? Why ain't you there?" Romeo still didn’t answer. Jack waited a good while to see if Romeo would talk to him. He was careful not to move, pretending to be very interested in the sky and looking down the street at the other abandoned buildings.

Romeo finally shrugged. "The big kids hit me."

Jack focused on Romeo again. "Is that right. You want I should straighten them out?"

"Jack..." said Charlie. Jack waved his hand at him to get him to stop talking.

Romeo looked at Jack with a mix of suspicion and hope. Jack stood up again. "Listen, you show me where they are and we'll have a little chat with them, yeah?" Romeo’s eyes got big. Jack turned to Charlie, holding out his hand to help him up. “Me and Charlie, we’ll tell ‘em how it is.”

Denton waited for Spot, as usual, his paper spread out in front of him. After several minutes, he signaled a guard. “Where’s Conlon?” he asked. “You said you’d get him.”

The guard half smiled at Denton. “Turns out Conlon ain’t feeling so good.”

Denton rose out of his seat. “Bring him out here anyway. I don’t care if he has smallpox.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” said the guard. “Siddown or you’ll be sharing a cell with him.”

Denton sat, slowly. Thirty minutes later, Spot came out, supported by two guards until he was dropped into the seat next to Denton. Spot stared angrily at him. “What the fuck do you want,” he asked, his voice hard and controlled.

“I came to see you, Spot,” said Denton. Spot was obviously not doing well, his neck more hollowed out as he strained to keep it together. “I can read to you if you want.”

“I can’t even sit up,” Spot said, sweating hard as he gripped the table. “I gotta work tomorrow, so I ain’t in the mood for a story, got it?”

Denton nodded and signaled the guard. “We’re done,” he said. As Spot was dragged back, Denton pulled the guard aside. “How much?” he asked. “How much to lay off of Conlon for a while?”

“More’n you can afford,” said the guard, smirking. “Can you pay more’n Pulitzer?”

Denton drew in a breath, reaching into his pocket. “This is all I got. Just give him a break this week, okay?”

The guard shrugged. “No promises.”

“Fine,” said Denton, folding up his paper. “But for the love of God, do what you can.” He made eye contact with the guard, who gave him a grudging nod.


	23. My Name Is Charlie

Romeo hid behind Jack and Charlie as Jack pounded on the door of the enormous house. Jack glanced back at him and smiled. This place didn't seem so bad. No worse than the lodging house, anyway. He stepped back as the door opened, setting his feet on the sagging porch, just in case.

An old man peered out. "We ain't got no more room," he muttered, starting to close the door.

Jack blocked it with his foot. "I got one of yours," he said. "This kid belong here?" He pulled Romeo to his side as Romeo buried his face in Jack's shirt.

The old man peered at Romeo and sighed. "Not again. Where you been, kid?" He held the door open for Romeo to come in, but Romeo didn't move, clinging to Jack, shaking. No way this kid was going back in there now, Jack thought. Clearly he was terrified.

Jack stepped in front of Romeo and got closer to the old man. "What kind of place is this, what lets little kids get beat up like that? This an orphanage? A work house? And who are you?"

"Who am I? Who are you?" demanded the man, leaning forward on his cane. "I got three kids to a bed and more coming every day. Folks up and die, or folks leave their kids behind, and who gets 'em? Me, that's who. C'mere, Romeo," he said, trying to reach around Jack.

Jack blocked his arm, scowling. "Lemme see," he said. The man hesitated. "The name's Jack Sullivan. Lemme see your place."

"Name's Kloppman." The old man pointed his chin at Charlie. "And who's he? The sheriff?"

"My name's Charlie. And I can kick your ass," said Charlie. The old man gaped at him as Jack turned slowly, his eyes big, trying to rein in his shock and a laugh.

“Come again?” said Kloppman, a puzzled look on his face.

“Don’t mind him,” said Jack. “He’s a little, you know...” He twirled his finger around his temple. Kloppman gave Jack a knowing look and stepped aside.

Jack looked around, taking in the worn out rooms, the plain wooden walls, the blankets on the floor, some still occupied by sleeping boys, somehow still able block out the noise. The thundering sound of kids upstairs was all too familiar. Chaos reigned as boys clattered in and out of the washroom and around the tables that might be places to eat, or not. Raggedy shirts hung on doorknobs. A thump and a cry came from a far corner somewhere. Boys started to push past Jack and Charlie on their way out for the day.

_Jack stood a little behind Race as the older boys came up. Who’s he, they asked. Can’t even see his face through the soot. The one you got the boots for, Race answered, smiling. He’s gonna be a newsie. Jack eyed them carefully, not quite hanging on to Race but not going very far either. He coughed as he warmed up, watching more boys come in, pushing each other as they went up the stairs or headed down the hallway. Race gestured to the older boys. Them’s the ones that got your boots. Jack looked at them nervously. Thanks, he whispered. The long table had food scattered on it, boys everywhere talking and trading food and money. An older boy handed him a roll. Jack stepped back, alarmed. He’d only gotten to four chimneys, though. This was a trick. It was so loud. Race was smiling, though. Go ahead, Jack. Eat it. I can show you our bunk, wanna see? An older boy clapped him on the back, lifting him onto another boy’s back for a piggy back ride to the bunk room. Jack had never been so terrified and happy at the same time._

Jack shook his head and turned to Kloppman. "What's the deal?"

Kloppman moved out of the way of another herd of boys on their way out. "They work, they pay, some of the time, anyway, and I give 'em a place to sleep and dinner. Most of the time. No one but me wants nothing to do with 'em," he said. Jack opened his mouth to answer but felt Romeo let go as some older boys spun him out of Jack’s hold.

“Hiding? Hiding, Romeo? Such a little wuss, ain’t ya,” one of them yelled as they pushed him down. Romeo’s lip trembled as he picked himself up and folded his arms in front of him. He backed into the corner near the front door, scowling at the floor.

“Good job, Romeo! Got a crip to protect you? Who the fuck are you?” shouted another boy at Charlie, coming up to him and knocking off his cap. He gave Charlie a shove into the wall.

Charlie and Jack exchanged a look. “My name’s Charlie, and I can kick your ass,” said Charlie. Charlie took his crutch and twisted it between the boy’s legs, flipping him onto the floor. The boy gasped in shock, gulping as he took off out the door.

Jack narrowed his eyes and turned to Kloppman. “You need help? Looks like you can use a hand. I got practice at this, at a, um, an orphanage. I can tell you who’s paid, who ain’t, and get on them to help out around here. I can knock heads if I need to. Look out for the little guys like Romeo so they don’t run off.”

Kloppman eyed Jack. “I ain’t got any money to pay you.”

Jack pushed out his lips, weighing his options. “I got a girl, see. And I got two friends who can take night duty here for a place to stay. Charlie’s one of them. He don’t take shit from nobody, right. Lemme stay in the carriage house with my girl.”

“Done,” said Kloppman. A little too quickly, Jack noticed.

“And two meals a day,” said Jack. “You put me in charge of collecting the money and you won’t have no trouble getting enough food.”

Kloppman pursed his lips, giving Jack a once over. “I ain’t feeding no four people extra for free,” he said. “Just you. Them friends and your girl ain’t eating here less they pay too.” Jack looked at Charlie, his eyebrows raised. Charlie took a big breath, his face a little uncertain and anxious. Romeo grabbed him around the waist and smiled up at him. Charlie sighed, giving in, and nodded at Jack.

“Deal,” said Jack, holding out his hand. Kloppman gave him a wary smile, but shook his hand after a moment. Hell, it wasn’t even eight in the morning and he’d already got a job and good place for all them to sleep. Jack loved Santa Fe.


	24. Fluff and Jack’s School of Psychology

Katherine opened her eyes, suddenly feeling Jack’s absence. Race snored lightly a few feet away. She sat up, looking around the room, realizing Charlie was gone too. They couldn’t both be... not early in the morning, surely... Jack had promised... he wouldn’t possibly let Charlie...

She pushed herself up and went to the door. No sign of either of them, save some marks in the dust on the stoop. Trust, Katherine, you have to trust him. 

“The hell!” She heard Race call. “Where’d everybody go?” She stepped back inside to Race’s relieved smile. “Oh. Morning.”

“Good morning,” she said. “Did Jack or Charlie tell you where they were going?”

Race shook his head. “Jacky’s probably looking for work,” he said. “I dunno about Charlie.” He looked at Katherine more closely.

“What?” she asked. What had she done now, she wondered. Race hadn’t said too much to her since the other night, and she was so embarrassed that she had been so naive she didn’t really know what to talk to him about either. She’d just trusted him because Jack did, but she didn’t even know him from her summer home, like she did Charlie. Turned out she didn’t even know Charlie the way she thought she did. Had she known Jack, either? What was she doing here? She was so hungry, again. She’d never have a cook again, would she. Her head started to turn wildly. No balls, no suitors, just hunger and dirt and worry and stealing and fights. She smiled at her father over the dining room table, the candlelight gleaming off of their candlesticks. Jack had told her a story about candlesticks, stealing them, she remembered. She looked out her bedroom window at her summer place, watching Jack stop working to run his sleeve over his forehead, getting back to work as Oscar approached. Oscar, lying dead in the moonlight.

“You all right?” Race asked. Katherine focused in on him again, silent. Race cleared his throat. “I been thinking, now that we found Santa Fe, um, you gotta stop being a boy.”

Kath stared. He’d been thinking about her?

“So, um, I stole them boy clothes for you, so I guess I better work on getting you a dress, huh,” Race went on, his face starting to look a little worried.

Pull it together, Katherine. “I suppose. I hate for you to steal, though.” Not that she had a better idea.

Race shrugged. “It’s just one dress.”

“Okay,” she said. “Thank you, Race.” She gave him a half smile.

He smiled back, his eyes meeting hers. “Jacky tries, Kath. You gotta know that. He ain’t perfect, but he’d rather die than let you down.”

Kath walked over to Race and held out both of her hands. Race took them gingerly. “He wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Race,” she said, swinging his arms. Race grinned and pulled her into a hug. Katherine squeaked as he tightened his grip.

“Hey, that’s my girl,” shouted Jack, striding into the room, grinning. “You want I should knock your teeth out, Race? That’s no way to start your day.”

“She said she’s running away with me, Jack,” said Race, turning away from Jack and holding on to Kath even tighter. “She said she don’t like you no more.” Katherine burst into laughter, not caring how her bruised cheek hurt as she laughed.

Kath tried to swish her skirt as she tried to clean up the dusty room in the loft. Not very swishy, these Western dresses. And “room” was a generous term, Jack, she scolded him silently. He’d brought up several armfuls of hay until they could get a bed, and dug up an old horse blanket to put over it all. It smelled. It smelled bad. Did the horse die on it, she wondered. She looked longingly at the stove, wishing both that she had something to cook and also that she knew how to cook. She would not complain. She would not. Another cobweb came down, half on her cloth and half on her face. She sputtered, wildly batting at her face with the dusty cloth. She heard Jack laugh. Finally able to open her eyes, she faced her bedraggled self toward the hole in the floor where the ladder came up.

“Look what I brung you,” he said, lifting a plate onto the floor. “You hungry?”

Kath nodded, wiping more cobweb from her mouth as she walked over to him. “Tell me you already ate,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. She raised her eyebrows at him. “You think I forgot how to steal a potato?” He sat on the floor, his legs dangling through the ladder hole, as he reached into his pocket.

“You stole? On your first day??” Kath swiped at him with the rag as he ducked, taking a big bite.

“What? Kloppman don’t know what’s going on in there. I ain’t always gonna steal. Just until I get a night job, you know.” He munched happily, holding the plate up to her again. Kath took it and started eating, giving Jack a warning look. “Not like that,” he said hurriedly. “Nah, something else.”

“Not if I find a job first,” she said, her mouth full. “I can work, Jack. For real this time, now that I don’t have to pretend anymore. I’ll just say I lost my hair when I had some terrible disease and now it’s just growing back.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Then they’ll really wanna hire ya,” said Jack. He had a point, Kath had to admit.

Katherine harrumphed. “They’ll hire me. Tomorrow someone will hire me.” She’d show him. “How was it in there, anyway,” she asked.

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “It’s kids. Easy. Tell ‘em who’s boss and knock the older ones in line. Done. Ain’t no one gonna mess with Romeo again, I can tell you that. Some kids ain’t been working or paying, so I said they got one week or they’re out. Nothing to it. Race and Charlie’ll do the same.”

Katherine blanched. Jack would throw kids out? He knocked them around? Was he kidding? He seemed serious. She watched him eat the rest of his potato, clearly not at all worried. “You’d really throw them out? What about school?”

His blank stare threw her off even more. “Yeah, I’d throw them out. They ain’t earned it, they ain’t staying. And what about school?”

Katherine didn’t know where to start. “But Jack, they’re just boys...” she faltered.

“Yeah,” said Jack. “Listen, they see me as the bad guy, then they’ll help each other out, right? Cuz the bigger kids know I ain’t afraid of them and I’ll toss them out no regrets. They’ll survive. So them big kids still wanna stay there and be big, right, so they help out the littles and they all think they’re pulling one over on me. If I ain’t the bad guy then they start all that shit like what they done with Romeo.”

Something about that didn’t seem right to Katherine, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Did Charlie and Race find jobs today?”

Jack leaned back on his elbows. “Charlie got in washing dishes at a restaurant not too far. Race, nothing yet. You really wanna talk about them knuckleheads when we got our own private room?”

Kath smiled. “You like cobweb-flavored kisses?”

“My favorite,” said Jack, getting up and taking her hand. He leaned in for a kiss before blowing out the lamp.


	25. Guilt

Jack jerked, the pain jolting through him yet again. He tried to control his ragged breathing, holding it in and then gasping. He clenched his fists, grunting as he jerked again under another blow. He heaved for air, pressing his forehead down as sweat poured down his face despite the cold. Footsteps approached. Jack felt something under his chin, raising his face. “Mercy, boss,” he begged. 

“Jack,” a soft voice answered. “Jack, wake up. You have to wake up.”

Jack held his breath one more time, not understanding. “Please, boss,” he said. “I... I...” He let out a sob, burying his face in his pillow. His pillow? He slowly unclenched his fist and ran his hand over his face. He wasn’t chained. He opened his eyes a little, this time nearly crying at the sight of Katherine kneeling next to him.

“It’s just me, darling,” she said. “You’re in Santa Fe now, remember?” She pushed back his sweaty hair, smiling at him. He took her hand and kissed her palm before moving it to his cheek. He took a big breath and nodded.

Spot jerked, the pain jolting through him yet again. He tried to control his ragged breathing, holding it in and then gasping. He clenched his fists, grunting as he jerked again under another blow. He heaved for air, pressing his forehead down as sweat poured down his face despite the cold. Footsteps approached. Spot felt something under his chin, raising his face. “Mercy, boss,” he begged.

“I don’t think so,” said the guard. “Denton ain’t paid this week.”

“Fuck you,” Spot said.

“Seven more,” the guard shouted, stepping away.

Jack always had the letter with him when he went to the bank. In his shoe, usually, but sometimes in his pocket. It’s not like he needed to read it. He had it memorized the day he’d received it, six months after his telegram and letter to Medda.

He poured out his tip money in exchange for quarters and bills, to be safely tucked away in his secret spot in the carriage house. He was almost there. Between that and what the others managed to save, they’d make it.

_Dear Jack,_

_I was so surprised to get your second telegram and then your letter. I am pleased you have employment with the orphanage. You probably make a lot in tips at the station, don’t you. Make sure you stay honest there, although the temptation is great, I’m sure. I miss Charlie’s smile. That boy is probably running the restaurant by now. Racetrack needs to find better work than gambling in the pool hall. Tell him that I do not approve and that he can do better. He will get hurt doing that eventually. How is Katherine doing in service? She does not seem like the kind of person who would be a maid for long, but I suppose the money is fair._

_I have bad news about Spot. He was given two years in Sing Sing. I tried to help. I’m sorry._

_If you can afford it, send another telegram when you are ready._

_Your friend,_

_Medda_

Jack blew on his hands as the train pulled into the station, the icy cold blowing through his shirt on the crystal clear night. Kath had been pestering him to buy some gloves and a coat now that they had a little money, but he just couldn’t do it. He held his hands out in front of him, grimacing at the cracks. Maybe next winter. The first class passengers began to disembark, looking around, getting their bearings. Jack turned on his smile and got to work.

Jack put the sledgehammer down for a moment to straighten his back. His hands ached, with the deep cracks bleeding in the cold. His torn uniform did nothing to block the wind.

“Get back to work,” the prisoner next to him urged, pointing up. Too late, Jack looked at the ledge above and tried to duck as the guard poured a bucket of water down on him. Jack gasped, trying to shake off as much as he could as he reached for his sledgehammer again, his shirt starting to freeze against him.

“Jack, darling,” he heard Katherine say. What was she doing here? Jack whirled around, flinging out his arms to protect her from the water. “Jack, wake up. You have to wake up.”

“It’s so cold,” he said, blinking blearily at her, pulling the blanket up over them, feeling more exhausted now than when he went to sleep. “He’s so cold, Kath.”

Denton sat back, hearing his clock chime midnight. Just a little while longer, he promised himself. He could do it. He rubbed his eyes and focused on the horseshoe in front of him. This week he’d do it. He’d make enough this week for Spot. He shook his head to get the blood flowing again and got back to work.


	26. Snippets and Spot

Race stumbled into the carriage house. “Jack,” he whispered loudly. “Jacky, I need you.” He knocked on the ladder. “Jacky!” He heard some rustling from up above before he heard Jack’s sleepy voice.

“Race? What’s going on? Where you been? The boys okay?” Jack came down the ladder holding his clothes.

“Boys are fine,” Race replied, his breathing heavy. “I ain’t doing so good. A bet went sideways, and they found me before I got here last night.” 

Jack pulled on his shirt and pants in a hurry, taking in what he could of Race. Kinda banged up, but he wasn’t walking too good. “I ain’t giving you money, Racetrack,” he said. “My money ain’t being saved up for you, I told you that.”

Race shook his head, bending over at the waist as he leaned on the wall. “I need a doctor, Jacky. My leg’s messed up bad.” Jack peered down, his face wrinkling in disgust as he saw that Race’s leg was not attached the way it ought to be below the knee. Damn if Medda hadn’t called it, he thought. 

“My pool game is gonna be off,” whined Race, thumping on his cast. Kath rolled her eyes as Jack tried his best to look sympathetic. “I don’t look good with this thing, and my pants are all cut up.” Jack had to laugh at that. Race had gotten used to his nice clothes lately, as successful as he’d been with this gambling.

“No new suit this month, then, huh,” said Jack, pulling out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “Not even another hat?”

“Gonna have to slum it with us, then,” said Kath. “Kloppman could use a hand in the kitchen anyway. His hands are getting shaky. Maybe he’d let you off the hook for paying for your meals.” Race groaned and slumped back in his chair. 

Jack chuckled. “Welcome back to being poor, Race. We missed ya.”

“I’ll find something to make it worth my while to be here,” grumbled Race. “I’ll figure something out.” 

Charlie beamed as he dropped an extra fifty cents into Jack’s hand. “Compliments of the new assistant cook,” he grinned at Jack. “I’m moving up in the world, Jack.”

Jack reached out and punched Charlie’s shoulder. “You’ll have your own place someday, Charlie. You’ll have the best place in Santa Fe. I’ll get free dinners, right?”

“I’ll charge you double, as much as you eat,” said Charlie. “Kath can eat for free, though.”

“Fair enough,” said Jack. “But listen, I need you to help Race out a little in the kitchen here, okay? Kloppman’s losing it and I dunno if I can take another one of his breakfasts again. Salsa pancakes is bad, Charlie. Burned is worse. You saw the boys gag it down, but we gotta do better.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Time was you wouldn’ta blinked at that, Jacky. But yeah, I’ll help Race out. He’s used to taking orders from me.” 

Kath flopped down on their bed, too tired to undo her maid’s dress or her shoes. Kathleen O’Donnell, you are not a good maid. Well, she was, in that she knew exactly what had to be done, but she’d just never done it herself before. Her feet ached and throbbed. Maybe Jack would come up before dinner and help her change. Could she phonate any other words outside of “yes” and “no” and “ma’am” anymore? Did it matter that she could conjugate Latin verbs better than her employer’s daughter? Should they know that? Should she tell them that she could concertize at their piano better than she could wash and fold their bedsheets? She smiled to herself, laughing a little at her past life. She was happy in this loft, with Jack and their smelly blanket and her tiny pay. She had gulped out her thanks the first time her employer had gifted her with their castoff dresses, waiting for Kath’s gratitude with an expectant smile, making sure her daughter witnessed this act of charity. How Jack had laughed as Kath re-enacted the scene for him in their room. Kath had enjoyed herself, ripping up the dresses to use as kindling for their stove.

“Okay, everyone, here it is!” Jack shouted. Kath, Race, and Charlie turned their attention from their poker game to Jack, sitting at the far end of the big table. Jack waited until they all looked impatient, and broke out into a grin.

“We got it,” Jack said softly. “We did it.” Race and Charlie erupted into cheers, both hobbling around the table to slap Jack on the back, hugging each other as they gazed at the pile of cash on the table. Jack wrapped his arms around Kath, squeezing his eyes shut and smiling so hard he thought he’d never stop. They had actually done it. 

Spot rolled to a stop in the ditch, trying to believe he was free. He wiped at his bleeding nose and mouth with the ragged edge of his sleeve, listening to the carriage turn around in the road and head back to the prison. A Pulitzer special, they called it. The carriage out of sight and sound, he collapsed. Denton had promised to be there when he got out. What would they tell him, he wondered, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the ground.

As the sun came up, Spot dragged himself to the road, searching for any sign of life. None to be found. The road must go somewhere, he reasoned. He picked a direction and started walking. 

Denton sat on his back steps, smoking. He wasn’t a regular smoker, but after today he just needed a cigarette. Spot had been released two days ago, they’d said, all innocent like. We don’t have no idea where he is. He’s a free man. It was all Denton could do not to leap over the counter and attack. 

“You said he’d be released today,” he said, teeth clenched.

“You musta misheard,” the guard smiled. “You wanna visit someone else?” Denton glared and stalked out of the prison. Would Spot come to him? Go back to the city? He climbed angrily back into his cart and left, not knowing what else to do. Except smoke, alone, on his back stoop.

As he finished his cigarette and stood, Denton stopped. The light crunch of gravel was unmistakable. “Spot?” he called. At least no one was nearby to think he was crazy. “Spot Conlon, that you?”

“Denton,” Spot croaked. “It’s me.” Out of the shadows Denton saw a thin figure emerge, stumbling in his effort to run to Denton. Denton rushed toward Spot, scooping him up and carrying him inside without any protest from Spot.

He laid Spot down on his bed, smoothing back Spot’s hair as Spot closed his eyes. “Hey, Spot,” he said quietly. “Hey. You made it. You hear me? You made it.” Spot nodded, his eyes still closed.

Denton smiled, taking in the muddy clothes and familiar bruises. Spot would survive. Again. He’d cook something, Denton decided. “Spot, what do you want to eat? I’ll make anything you want.” No reply. “Spot?” Denton leaned down to make sure Spot was breathing, relieved to see Spot’s chest rise and fall. Well, he’d have plenty of time to cook, then.

Denton moved into the kitchen, taking out his pots and pans, trying to remember what Spot had liked best the last time he’d been here. Glancing over his table, he noticed the telegram he’d neglected to open earlier in his rush to get to the prison. He opened it, wondering what Medda wanted. He didn’t know her well, mostly as part of a circle of locals who didn’t care much for Pulitzer, but that was about it. 

Denton. Coming Thursday. Be home. Medda

Thursday. That was tomorrow, Denton realized. Well, good. He’d better have something cooked up, then. And he’d better tidy up while he was at it. He couldn’t pretend to be as wealthy as Medda, but that didn’t mean he had to be a slob. Filled with purpose, Denton let his adrenaline carry him through the night, cooking nearly everything he had, and cleaning his little home for his newfound guests.


	27. Some Of Us Are in Better Shape Than Others

Denton sank into his chair, his table covered with just about everything he knew how to make. Everything from stew to cake had indeed taken him most of the night. His floor was swept, the dishes done, his fireplace was cleaned out, and his extra quilt was neatly folded on his other chair. He cocked his head to listen for Spot, but still didn't hear a sound. He hauled himself up and crept to his bedroom door, peeking in. He drew in his breath. He'd seen Spot just the other week, but somehow seeing Spot in his home made the obvious abuse worse. The mud from Spot's clothes had rubbed into his bedsheets, as had the blood from his face and back. All washable, he reminded himself. Let the kid rest. Denton suddenly felt his own exhaustion flood over him. He wished he knew when Medda was coming to know if he could take a nap or not. If he just sat on his front steps, maybe he'd hear her coming. He really should work, though. He needed the money. Spot would need clothes, and more food.

He sat and leaned against his front door, promising himself to close his eyes for just a moment before getting to work. Not half a second later, the sun was much higher in the sky and Denton felt a shadow over his face.

"Good morning, Denton," boomed Medda, smiling down at him.

Denton peered up groggily before scrambling to his feet. "Miss Medda, welcome. Hello. I, uh, I was just... I thought I'd wait for you out here." He rubbed his eyes as he found a smile. "Welcome."

"Are you going to invite me in or are we going to visit out here?" Medda asked, still smiling.

"No, no, no! Please, come in. I mean, wait. Ah," Denton paused a moment, "you should know, um, Spot is here. He's sleeping. But he's here. They let him out two days early, so I wasn't there, but he found me. He's sleeping." Medda glanced at the front door. "Right, yes, please come in. Welcome." He opened the door for her and followed her inside.

Medda surveyed the main room before turning to Denton. He cleared the quilt from his second chair, tossing it into the corner, and gestured for her to sit. "What brings you by?" he asked. "Coffee?" He lifted his pot of coffee from the stove.

"Yes, please," she replied, taking in the food on the table. "I appreciate your hospitality, Denton, but you have gone a little overboard, don't you think?"

Denton brought over the mugs and smiled at her. "Help yourself. I thought Spot would be hungry right away, but he fell asleep before I could ask him what he wanted. So, ah, I guess I made everything." To his relief, Medda laughed a deep laugh. She looked at Denton and they both burst out laughing some more.

"I've never even met Spot," said Medda. "But his friends must think the world of him. They asked me to get his sentence reduced, you know. I did, a little. Five years, anyway. That judge, well, he's on thin ice with me, now. Anyway, I didn't hear much from Jack and them for a while, but they did make it to Santa Fe. And now they've sent me this." She pulled out an envelope and opened it so Denton could see the stack of bills inside. "They wired me this money, Denton, with instructions. It is to pay for a first class train ticket for Spot to go to Santa Fe."

Denton's eyes widened at the sight of the money. Spot had known the others who had disappeared, he knew that much, and Spot had been the one to suggest following them out West to make sure they made it. Surely they weren't wealthy already, although maybe they had struck it rich. It happened. And Spot would not have lived another five years in prison--she had surely saved his life. He realized he hadn't spoken yet. "Well, Miss Medda," was all he managed to figure out. Medda laughed again before drinking some more of her coffee and reaching for a piece of cake. 

"I can't take their money," Spot said, taking both Denton and Medda by surprise. They turned to see him holding himself up in the bedroom doorway, his clothes hanging off of him as he adjusted his feet to stay upright.

Denton walked quickly to his side. "Come have something to eat," he said quietly. "Come on, now." He supported Spot as he led him to his chair. Spot looked suspiciously at Medda and then to Denton.

Medda smiled at him. "Jack says hello," she started out. Spot gave her a ghost of a smile. "They all sent you this money for a train ticket to Santa Fe. They want you to come out there." Spot turned to the food on the table and grabbed some bread, stuffing it in his mouth. Denton and Medda silently watched him eat for some time, with Spot seemingly unaware of or indifferent to the dirt and blood caked on his hands and face. He washed everything down with the coffee Denton gave him before looking at them again.

"I can't take their money," he repeated. "They don't know what I done."

Denton frowned. "I think it's because they know exactly what you did that they sent you this money," he said. "Jack knows you let him get away. They just want to say thanks." He handed the envelope to Spot.

Spot thumbed through the bills without saying a word. Finally he cleared his throat. "Yeah, they know that. Let's just say I owe Jack more than he owes me." He handed the bills back to Medda. "Wire them back."

Looking up at Denton, Spot gripped the back of his seat and pushed himself up. "You got company. Mind if I go sleep somewheres again?" Denton pointed back to his bedroom, but Spot shook his head. He staggered to the back door and opened it. "Miss Medda," he said, before leaving and heading to the shed.

Denton slowly opened the door to his shed after seeing Medda off. Spot was sprawled on the dirt floor, evidently having fallen asleep again as he had entered. Denton backed out. He had to work, for sure. He headed over to his workshop, the money folded into his back pocket. Feeling bad that he might wake Spot, but pretty sure he'd need to get more food soon, Denton got to work.

Hours later, he strained his eyes, soon realizing he should light a lamp to work by, when he saw Spot standing in the doorway. "Spot," he nodded. "You hungry?"

Spot came and sat on the stool across from him. "I went back to the kitchen and ate again. Hope that's all right."

Denton smiled. "Of course. Glad you did." He swung again at the work on his anvil. "Lemme finish this up, okay?" Spot nodded and leaned back, closing his eyes. Denton made quick work of the job in front of him, wondering how on earth to get him to take the money and go to Santa Fe. Seemed like Spot wasn't in any shape to walk from the house to the workshop, never mind take a train across the country. Time, Denton. He needs time. Denton wanted to kick himself. The guy hadn't even cleaned up from prison and here they were throwing money at him to move on. And what he owed Jack was beyond his comprehension. It must have been Spot's exhaustion talking.

"Spot," he said. Spot grunted and opened his eyes. "What did you mean, you owe Jack more than he owes you? Seems like it's the other way around to me."

Spot grunted again and closed his eyes. "Remember how I said maybe someone died when I got arrested? Hm?" He opened his eyes a slit to make sure Denton nodded, then closed them again. "That was Jacky's father. He come into the bar where I was working and started talking about his boy Jack and how he run off. Ain't what happened. Newsies took Jacky in when he was real little. Anyway, I stabbed him. I didn't mean to, but I did."

Denton dropped his hammer.

Spot opened his eyes again. "Guess I should be moving on, hm. You don't know who you been talking to, huh, Denton. Think you're helping a nice guy? You ain't." Denton stared at him, his mouth dropped open. Spot snorted. "You're a good guy, Denton. Thanks for helping me out with the reading and paying the guards off and all that. I wouldn'ta made it without you. Guess I owe you too." He pushed on his knees to get up and went to the door. "I'll be on my way."

Denton jumped up and grabbed Spot's arm, ripping a hole in his sleeve even bigger. "Don't go. Stay, Spot. I want you to stay. We'll work it out, I promise. You don't have to go to Santa Fe right now. Just stay here and rest and eat and get better," he said quietly. He saw Spot bite his lip a little. "Go back in the house and sleep in my bed. Medda's gone. We'll talk more tomorrow, okay?" Spot jerked his arm loose and stepped back. Denton didn't move a muscle. Spot watched him for several seconds before turning his back and heading to the house. Denton watched him go, noticing as Spot pushed at his eyes before opening the back door and going in.


	28. A Kid Named Gummy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I haven't been drinking. I don't know where the name came from.

Jack stood at the front door, collecting money before dinner. He’d learned early to post Charlie at the back door and have Race patrol the windows. 

“Rope, thanks,” he said to the gangly kid coming in, money ready. “Finch, how you doing,” he said to the next boy, a kid taller than Jack. Jack marked them all down in his ledger, satisfied that they came ready and didn’t pick as many fights with him as they used to. Where was Gummy, he wondered. A burly kid with straw-straight hair that stuck out at odd angles, he had a sour disposition to begin with, and hadn't taken to Jack as easily as the other boys.

It had taken Gummy a while to come back after Jack tossed him out two nights in row for not having his money. Jack hadn’t won the fights with the boy easily, as big as Gummy was, but he had won, he made sure of that. Gummy wouldn’t look at Jack when he came by to meet up with the other boys on their way to work in the morning until one day he came in, holding out his money, and finally met Jack’s eyes. Jack had made sure to smile at him and say it was good to see him. Gummy hadn’t smiled back. Jack’s stomach curled up a little at every encounter, ready to fight if he had to, but so far Gummy had reined it in so he could stay. It was an uneasy truce. Race and Charlie kept an eye on him at night, but neither one trusted him either.

Jack made sure the boys were lined up with their plates in hand until Race said everything was out of the kitchen and on the side table. He nodded at Rope to start going through, and stood back to watch that none of the littles got shoved around. Shove a little, get shoved outside, Jack had declared. 

He startled at the pounding on the door. The boys froze, mid-step, mid-bite, and mid-forkful. He opened the door, heart pounding, and tried not to go pale at the sight of a cop standing in front of him, Gummy in his tight grip, his hands cuffed behind him. He scowled at Jack.

“Where’s Kloppman?” the cop asked, sweat dripping down into his collar, out of breath.

Jack sucked in a breath. “He ain’t up. He went to bed early tonight.” He looked at Gummy, who seemed to be in pretty good shape, and definitely not out of breath. “What’s going on?”

The cop shook Gummy. “This one was starting fights at a bar. Either Kloppman takes care of him this time or I will. Next time there won’t be no choice.”

Jack nodded somberly. “That’s a real serious problem, officer. We want our bars to be peaceful. Tell you what. You leave him to me and I promise you won’t see him doing that again, sir. We got serious, um, consequences for that kind of thing.” He took Gummy’s other arm and pulled at him hard, relieved that he'd remembered a big word to use.

“See that he straightens up, then,” the cop scolded, unlocking the handcuffs.

“Yes, sir,” said Jack smartly, yanking Gummy inside. “Thank you, sir.” He shut the door as quickly as he dared. The dining room was silent as the boys watched Jack.

Jack looked at them and back at Gummy. “You and me. In the kitchen.” He glanced over the boys. “Charlie is in charge. You fellas keep eating.” As the noise gradually resumed in the dining room, Jack pulled Gummy back into the kitchen. Race looked up from the dishes and wiped his hands as he turned to lean against the counter.

"What," Gummy growled. "You two gonna gang up on me? You gonna beat the shit outta me, two on one? Real brave, Sullivan."

Jack smiled tightly. "No. Race is here to make sure I _don't_ beat the shit outta you. What the hell, Gummy? Starting fights? You got a good job, yeah, at the livery? You bring the bulls in here with you, they're gonna start watching the rest of the boys, too, and that ain't fun. Don't bring that kind of trouble here, you got me?"

Gummy started for Jack, standing inches from Jack's face. Jack set his jaw and stared back up at him, lining up his shoulders with Gummy's. Gummy glared at Jack. "I didn't start no fight, Sullivan. My old man was in there and I thought maybe he'd lemme come back home. He threw his beer at me, so I slugged him. That's what happened."

_Jack ducked, narrowly avoiding getting clocked by the men who had started throwing punches, knowing he couldn't come home until he had his father's tin growler filled with beer. Finally he grabbed the handle and hauled it out to the street, bumping it against his legs, spilling a little._

Jack stepped back. "Okay. Next time just leave him alone if he does that. Slugging him ain't gonna change his mind about you going home, Gummy." He ran his wrist under his nose and glanced at Race. Race was watching carefully, but hadn't moved at all. "You got money for dinner today?"

Gummy blinked. Jack saw him trying to step down from wanting to punch him and gave him a moment. "Yeah," said Gummy. "Yeah, I do." He reached in his pocket and gave his coins to Jack. Jack started to motion with his chin that Gummy should go back out, but then paused.

"Gummy," Jack said, "wait. You been to jail yet?" Gummy shook his head. Jack grunted. "Good. Keep it that way. You start any more fights that gets the cops' attention and you're outta here for good, understand me?" Gummy nodded, a confused look on his face. "Go get something to eat."

Gummy backed out of the kitchen, still looking uncertain. Jack looked down at the coins in his hand and shook them a little. 

_"Jack," said Race. "Hey, Jacky. C'mere." They found a stoop, their papers nearly gone for the morning. "Your old man, where is he?"_

_Jack shrugged. He hadn't thought about him in years. "Dunno. Gone."_

_Race moved closer to Jack. "I heard from them Brooklyn newsies that your old man is dead. There was a bar fight and he got killed."_

_Jack looked at Race. "Oh yeah? And how would they know that?" His stomach tightened. He thought his father had died a long time ago. He'd been around?_

_"They said he said your name," said Race._

_Jack laughed. "I ain't the only Jack Kelly around, Racetrack. Half the city's Irish." He tried to keep laughing, but couldn't._

_"I know. But maybe it was your old man," said Race. "Maybe." Yeah, maybe. Maybe not. He might as well be dead, thought Jack. He checked his bag. Six papes left. Better get 'em sold, Kelly._

_"So he's dead. Who cares," said Jack. "I got papes to sell."_

Race limped over to Jack and put his arm around his shoulders. "Stupid piece of shit, Gummy's old man," he said.

Jack released a half laugh, his eyes stinging. "Yeah. Stupid piece of shit," he said.

Race pulled on his shoulders a couple of times. "You did good, Jacky." Jack managed a smile.


	29. Denton and Spot Fluff

Spot swung the hammer down again. 

“That’s it. Now one more to the right of that,” said Denton. Spot swung again, just to the left. “Not bad. So, now two more to the right of the last one.”

Spot concentrated, swung, and hit the mark. Good, Conlon. He swung a second time, again hitting the mark. He looked up at Denton, relieved to see his approval.

“Cool it off,” Denton instructed. Spot obeyed, brought the horseshoe out of the water, and admired his work. He loved forging metal, maybe even more than Denton did. So satisfying, so colorful, and tremendously dangerous. It was perfect. The whole world went away when he worked; no room for unfocused thinking here. He had debated learning slowly, so that he could stay here longer. Denton hadn’t exactly said how long he’d let Spot stay, knowing he had money for a ticket across the country, but he hadn’t thrown him out yet, either. Spot finally gave up, and learned as fast as he could. Go ahead, throw him out, he thought. This was good work, and he might as well learn as much as he could before his time was up.

The trouble, of course, was Denton insisting that he read every night after dinner. No more of Denton reading to him, no sir, but Spot reading to Denton. Half an hour of agonizing reading. 

“Why you doing this to yourself, Denton,” he asked one night, stumbling through yet another newspaper article. “What kind of torture is this for you? You murder someone too?”

Denton kept staring into the fire. “I got nowhere else to be, Spot. Keep reading.”

Spot sighed. “You got no friends? No poker games? Nothing? Just stupid Spot reading to you?”

Denton looked up. “I just keep to myself, I guess. People bring us plenty of work. That’s enough for me. And you have to believe me what I say you’re not stupid, Spot. Anything but. But reading is a condition for you staying here. You read to me and help out around here, and you can stay.”

“I’m going to Santa Fe sometime. Ain’t no one there gonna care if I can read about stocks and shit.”

“Maybe not,” said Denton. “But I care. You still thinking about going out there, then?”

Spot sat back. “Yeah. It’d be good to see Jack and them. I dunno. I guess I wonder if I’ll do anything good out there or not. I don’t wanna waste their money, you know? Prison there probably ain’t any better than here.”

Denton got up and sat across from Spot at the table. “You said you worked at a bar before. You’re not bad at the forge these days. You know how to go straight, seems to me.”

Spot shrugged. “Cops just seem to get after me even when I ain’t done nothing. I mean, I did kill a man, so I got what was coming, right. But before that, seemed like I couldn’t turn around without getting locked up at the Refuge.” He picked at his fingers. He’d never told anyone about not being sure he could go straight. Not only was he stupid but he was also dumb, trusting Denton with shit like that. He wished he could just stay here and not think about anything. Just pound metal the way it should go, and forget about the rest.

Denton studied his kitchen table carefully. He really didn’t want Spot to go, and felt bad for wanting to hold him back. For years he had lived here, content to work and read and let the world go by. His little stash of stories stayed hidden in his shed, which he’d read and add to every now and then. He’d almost taken them out the other week for Spot to read, but was too embarrassed. Nothing would humiliate him more than Spot’s scorn. 

He got up slowly and moved toward his shed. Just do it, Denton. The kid’s going to Santa Fe, never to be heard from again. He reached behind the one panel and drew out his sheaf of stories, bringing them back to the kitchen before he could change his mind. He set them in front of Spot.

“I wrote these. I’d be honored if you’d read them.” Denton got up and went to his bedroom and shut the door. 

Spot stared after him, the light from the fire flickering on his face. He went over to the fireplace, unrolled his blankets, and settled down, holding the papers in front of him. These were no newspaper articles about stocks and shit. He’d never read anything like them. Bank robbers, kidnappers, time travel, and magical powers all blended together in a way Spot had never heard of. What in the world was this, he wondered. Denton wrote these? Was he crazy? As much as Spot started to doubt Denton’s sanity, he flipped through page after page late into the night, mesmerized.

Denton emerged in the morning, hoping Spot hadn’t thrown the whole stack of stories into the fire, although he wouldn’t have blamed Spot if he had. He peeked over Spot’s still sleeping figure, relieved to see the papers scattered in front of him. He headed into the kitchen, deliberately clattering a few pans as he got some breakfast together for them. He had taken pride in the fact that Spot was looking better these days, and finally putting a little weight back on to his still wiry frame. 

He looked up from the stove as he heard Spot get up and come to the kitchen. “Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” said Spot. “Those were some fucking crazy stories, Denton.” He rubbed at his face and started buttoning up his shirt.

Denton concentrated on his frying pan, his face turning red. “Bunch of shit, yeah, I know.”

Spot grinned. “Aw, Denton, no. They was good crazy. I read them all.”

Denton smiled as he pushed the potatoes around in the pan. “Did you now.”

“Yeah,” said Spot. “I did. You don’t believe me?”

Denton felt his face cool down a little. “No, I don’t believe you.”

“Fuck you.” He heard the smile in Spot’s voice.

“You can read them to me tonight, then,” Denton said, piling food onto Spot’s plate.

“You’re on,” said Spot. “Anything but the fucking newspaper. Fuck Pulitzer, Denton. You gotta write more stories for me.”


	30. Jack Holds On

Jack tugged at his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair as he stood in front of the judge. Romeo glared at him from behind the prosecutor's table, his hands handcuffed in his lap and his face smudged with dirt.

"No, sir, I... I'm not saying what he did was right. But I can straighten it out. He don't need to go to a juvenile jail," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "He won't get in no more trouble, I swear."

The judge pointed his gavel at Romeo. "He's been arrested twice now, Sullivan. He's a thief and a menace."

Jack opened his hands in front of him, palms up. "Your honor, please. Kids steal when they don't know what else to do. He had a few bad days selling, right? He got hungry. Please, I'll help him out from now on. I didn't know. But now, I promise you, I'll know and I'll help him out."

"You seem to know an awful lot for not knowing anything," said the judge. "Sounds like you might know a thing or two about stealing yourself. Do you plan to help him by teaching him how to steal without getting caught? What kind of criminal history do you have, Sullivan?"

Jack looked down, hearing himself breathe. Settle, Kelly. He's just trying to shake you up. He closed his eyes for a moment before returning the judge's gaze. "I'll train him for a job, your honor. He won't be stealing no more. Please give him another chance." That was a stupid promise, Kelly. He had no idea what kind of job he'd train Romeo for. He glanced at Romeo, realizing he didn't know much more than Romeo. All he knew how to do was hawk newspapers himself, and steal. He wasn't gonna send the kid up any chimney. 

"And what kind of job do you have in mind?" the judge asked. 

Jack thought fast. "A... a stable hand, your honor." The carriage house was a mess, that was true.

The judge sighed. "Very well, Sullivan. He's your responsibility now. Be warned that any further criminal activity will be seen as coming at your direction, and you might be the one behind that table next time."

Jack felt his face drain as he broke out in a sweat. "Yes, sir. I understand." As Romeo's case was dismissed, Jack left the courtroom and waited by the front door. He put his shaking hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall until Romeo was released. Romeo came out and walked right past him.

"Hey," said Jack, catching up to him on the dusty street. "Hey, I just kept you outta jail, friend. How about you say hello?" Romeo kept on walking, staring straight ahead. "You wanna go to jail, is that it?"

Romeo stopped suddenly and glared at him some more. "I ain't afraid. You made me out to be some kind of crybaby in there. You didn't even notice when I ain't come in for two days. What do you care, anyway?"

Jack pulled Romeo over to the side of the street and got down on his knees, placing his hands on Romeo's shoulders. "I know you ain't afraid. That's the problem. Them juvenile jails, Romeo, they're bad. You don't want to go there, okay? You thought you was hungry this week? It's worse in jail. They make you work twelve hours a day in their factory and then maybe let you eat, but maybe not. Even if you got hungry here, ain't no one beating on you, right? You want some warden beating on you with a belt or worse till you can’t hardly walk?” Romeo scowled at him.

He took a breath. "And I'm sorry I didn't come find you. I just didn't have time, Rome. There are a lot of kids and it's a lot of work at the lodge. I'm sorry. Next time you're short on money and you get hungry, you come to me or Race or Charlie before you steal, okay?" Romeo gave him a little nod and looked away.

"Good. And now we gotta talk to Gummy. I said we'd teach you how to work in the stables, but Gummy knows more'n I do." Romeo's eyes got big as he looked at Jack in alarm. Jack laughed a little. "Gummy's not so bad. Give him a chance."

Jack was joking. Gummy hadn't taught a little kid anything ever before in his life, and now Jack wanted him to spend his free time teaching Romeo. Romeo was so small... no smaller than he had been, though, when his dad threw him out. Jack tilted his head at him, daring him.

"Do what I say, got it?" Gummy pointed at Romeo's face. Romeo nodded, terrified. Gummy smacked the back of Romeo's head, but not as hard as he thought he would. "Go get water in that pail over there," he ordered. "We got a ton of cleanup to do out here."

Romeo scurried off, and Gummy turned to Jack. "I'm an asshole. You sure you want me around Romeo?"

Jack grinned. "I'm sure. You two have a good day."

"Fuck you," said Gummy. He tried not to smile back at Jack. He hated smiling.

Jack gently emptied his pockets onto the little table, trying not to clink the coins together too much. He pulled off his cap and shirt and sank into their bed, reaching out for Katherine. The stuffy night made their room hot, and he could feel his sweat-soaked hair press against his head as he put his head on his pillow.

"How was it," she whispered.

"Fine. I made some good money," he said. "Feels like some folks pack rocks instead of clothes, but they tipped good tonight."

"I meant with Romeo," she said, turning to face him. "How did it go?"

Jack blew out his cheeks. "He don't get it. And I shoulda noticed or done something when he skipped out for a couple of days, but all them other boys was acting up and I didn't get to him in time. I tried to tell him about jail, but I dunno... I got him working with Gummy now."

Kath snorted a laugh. "Gummy? Why?"

Jack shifted to put his hand under his head. "Gummy's all right. I ain't worried about that. But Romeo ain't worried about jail is the thing."

Kath reached out to stroke his cheek. Jack took her hand and kissed it before holding it to his chest. "Anyway, I gotta talk to Kloppman in the morning about Romeo."

"Mmmm..." murmured Kath. Jack listened as Kath's breathing slowly became deeper and more regular. He rolled onto his back and stared at the rafters.

_Race had helped him up off the floor once it was over, grabbing Jack's shirt and putting Jack's arm around his shoulders before leading him back to the room. See what happens, Higgins, when you disobey? People get hurt, Snyder laughed. Jack had gripped the seat of the chair harder, sucking in his breath with every crack of the belt buckle before gritting out the obligatory count. What will it be, Higgins, fifteen more from me or twenty more from you? You choose. Jack dropped his head, trying to take advantage of the break, feeling the blood drip down his side. Jack, said Race, the guards holding him back. Jack. Fifteen more from me, then? Snyder dropped the belt and reached for his whip. Let’s begin._

Jack rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. How to get Romeo to listen. How to get any of them to listen without telling them he was a runaway convict himself. There were too many, and Kloppman was in bed more and more. Some days Jack didn’t even remember he was there until the middle of the day when most of the kids were gone unless they were sick. The house needed more repairs. The broken windows needed to be replaced. Flour was running low and Rope had punched another kid, which wasn’t like him. Money was good for getting the food, but not much else was left over. Still, it was a good life, if he could keep everyone out of jail, including himself.


	31. There’s Change Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t get a cavity reading this, y’all.

Jack settled back on the front stoop as the daylight faded. He reached toward Race. “Lemme have it, just once.”

Race grudgingly handed over the cigarette, watching Jack take a long drag. “Hey, enough! Get your own. Gimme that.”

Jack took another drag and handed it back, blowing out smoke and smiling. “Thanks.”

“Been a while?” Race asked. Jack nodded. “You want a drag, Charlie?” Race held out what was left.

Charlie shook his head. “No way. Grandpa had a pipe sometimes, but he didn’t want any cigarettes around.”

Race chuckled. “Hate to break it to you, Charlie, but you’re a big boy now. And, uh, your grandpa ain’t here, you know?”

“I know,” said Charlie. “He still wouldn’t like it.”

Race nodded and put his arm around Charlie’s neck, pulling him in. “Your grandpa did good with you, you know that? At least one of us will turn out okay.” He finished the cigarette, stubbed it out, and pulled out another, striking a match on the step to light it. He sucked in and blew out slowly.

Jack leaned back against the wall and looked up at the sky. “What am I gonna do, fellas?”

They were quiet for a minute, thinking, Jack hoped. “You’re sure he didn’t say nothing to you before he died,” Charlie said. “Or told you where he kept any secret money or anything?”

Jack rolled his head toward Charlie. “Kinda hard for him to talk, as stiff as he was when I found him.” He sighed. “No, he didn’t tell me nothing. I didn’t know he was paying rent on this place, and he never mentioned he was so far behind.”

Race rested his arms on his knees. “How is this your problem again?”

“We’re living here, stupid,” said Jack, knocking his foot against Race’s ankle. “If Kloppman ain’t here to pay rent, they sure as hell want the people living here to pay it. And they still want Kloppman’s money, so if they gotta sell this palace to get it, then that’s what they’re gonna do.”

Race laughed a little. “Who’d buy a dump like this anyway?”

“It don’t matter. I don’t got money to pay the rent, never mind buy the stupid place,” said Jack, frustrated. “But I ain’t gonna leave until they drag us out. Where’re all these boys gonna go?”

“Same places we did, Jacky,” said Race quietly.

“Fuck that,” said Jack. He lifted his cap and ran his hand back and forth in his hair. “Never mind, fellas. I’ll figure something out.”

“Maybe Kath can round up some rich folks to help,” said Charlie.

Jack burst out laughing. “That’ll be the day, Charlie. Yeah.” He snorted. “Gimme another drag, Race.” Race handed over his cigarette and Jack inhaled deeply. He exhaled and shook his head, looking up at the sky again.

“Uh, Jack, this might not be the right time to tell you this, but I got something to tell you,” said Charlie. He exchanged a look with Race and took a big breath.

Jack looked at him expectantly. “Well? Spit it out.”

“I’m gonna open my own place. My own restaurant. I got it all picked out,” Charlie said in a rush. “It’s got a room in the back for me and a little yard and I’m gonna get my own chickens and have my own place. I been saving since I got promoted.”

Jack grinned wide as he reached out and pulled Charlie across the stoop. He wrapped his arm around Charlie’s head and shook him back and forth. “That’s it, Charlie! Atta boy!” He let Charlie go, giving him a shove. “I get to eat free, right?”

“I think we talked about that,” said Charlie, raking his hair back in place. “But Jack, that ain’t everything. I, uh, I asked Race to help me out.”

Jack looked at Race, who was suddenly studying his cigarette like it was a magic genie bottle. “Yeah? You leaving me?”

“Naw, Jack. I’m staying until Spot gets here, yeah? And I’ll still stay nights if you want me to,” he said. “I dunno. It’s easier taking orders from bossy pants over here than from you, see?”

“I need him, Jack,” said Charlie. “He can get me good deals, right, with supplies and stuff? He’s good at that.” Jack considered. Charlie was right. Race would get good deals, for sure.

“Yeah,” said Jack, “yeah, I get it. It’s good.” He paused, feeling like something just broke, but it didn’t hurt like he thought it would. He ask Kath about it later. She’d know why. He couldn’t think about it right now, not in front of them.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, “so I need you guys to help me clean out Kloppman’s room for Spotty. I want it to be nice.”

“Spot’s getting Kloppman’s room?” asked Race incredulously. “Why?”

“Cuz Kloppman ain’t in it no more?” Jack asked back, wondering what the problem was. 

“Uh, Jack, you know, staying in that broken down old shack that you call a carriage house might be all a guy like you deserves,” said Race, finishing off the cigarette, “and somehow you got a girl like Kath to stay there with you. But you ain’t gonna let your kid live there too, are you?”

“My what? In case you ain’t noticed, we ain’t got kids,” said Jack. Had Race been drinking again? Figured.

“Your kid,” said Charlie. Great. Now Race got Charlie drinking too. Funny he hadn’t seemed sloshed until now.

“How long you gonna make Katherine go up and down that ladder in her condition, you stupid fuck?” asked Race. “You two get Kloppman’s room, for fuck’s sake. Stick Spotty out in the ‘carriage house.’”

Jack stared at them suspiciously. “This ain’t funny, fellas. Don’t joke about Kath like that.”

“Like what,” said Katherine, coming out the front door. Charlie scooted over as the door opened. “I wondered where all of you went. Is this a secret meeting?”

Jack held out his arm for her to settle next to him. “These assholes is drunk. Come talk some sense,” he said. 

Katherine considered as she slowly lowered herself next to Jack. “All right. How about a game?”

Jack groaned. “No... my brain’s tired enough.” Maybe he should see what Race and Charlie had been drinking.

“I’ll start a sentence and then everyone adds a word,” chirped Katherine. “I’ll start. What...” she began. “You’re next, Race.”

“Should we,” said Race. 

“That’s two words,” said Jack. “Honestly, Kath, these guys are dumber than a bag of hammers.”

“Charlie,” instructed Kath. “Go.”

“Okay, um, what should we...” Charlie paused, grinning. “Name.”

“Me next,” said Kath. “The. Now you, Jack.”

“What do we have so far?” Jack asked, thoroughly confused. “What should we name the...” He froze, staring into Katherine’s eyes. “Baby?” he whispered. “What should we name the baby?” He blinked, Kath’s face getting suddenly blurry. “What?”

He took his arm out from behind her and knelt in front of her, his hands hovering over her stomach, not sure what to do. “Are you sure?”

Katherine nodded, taking his face in her hands. “Yes, my darling. I’m sure.” Jack let out a sob as he wrapped her up in his arms and rocked her from side to side, feeling Race and Charlie slap him on the back and head, cheering.


	32. Unions and Reunions

“I don’t get it,” said Spot. “If you go back in time, how come your clothes don’t look better? Wouldn’t they be new?”

Denton rapped his pencil on his paper. “He goes back before his clothes were ever made. Hundreds of years before they were made. He just has his regular clothes on when he gets there.”

Spot looked skeptical. “If he goes back before his clothes was made, then, he ain’t got ‘em, right? You better fix that before someone finds him. Good thing he’s in the king’s forest, right? Maybe he can get some leaves together or something. Kill some animal and use its fur. Does he have a gun?”

“Spot,” sighed Denton. “it’s not important. He’s dressed. In his own clothes. He’s just gotta find clothes that look right so they don’t know he just traveled back in time.”

Spot shook his head, his face skeptical. “It’s your story. But he’s in trouble if someone finds him there with no clothes on. Or maybe not. Maybe they could... ow!” He pushed Denton’s elbow away. “What?”

“Just read the other story for now,” Denton instructed. “You don’t get to see this one again until it’s done.” He turned away from Spot and looked out the window as Spot grumbled next to him.

Denton had to ask. He couldn't take it any more. "Are you going to tell Jack?"

Spot looked up from the story Denton had given him. "Dunno. You think I should? He spent all that money on a ticket, only for me to go out there and tell him I killed his dad? I'd be lucky if Jack didn't kill me."

"You didn't set out to kill his dad," said Denton. "Sounds like he wasn't the best father in the world to begin with."

Spot shrugged a little and went back to reading Denton's story. "So this lady," he said, pointing at the paper, "she got a problem talking? She talking some other language? It don't sound like Italian or Yiddish or nothing."

"She's a queen, Spot. She says words like 'thee' and 'thou' instead of 'you.' That's how queens talk."

"Stupid," Spot muttered. "She probably had all kinds of school and she still can't talk as good as me."

Spot nudged Denton. “Whaddaya know, there he is.” He pointed at Jack, his arms full of bags and suitcases, staggering down the platform away from them. “C’mere,” he said, pulling Denton down so he could speak into his ear. “I got an idea.” 

Spot waited until Jack had deposited the luggage onto the back of the carriage and grimaced when he saw Jack wait for the tip, only to get stiffed. Tough luck. Jack ran his wrist under his nose and nodded, trying to keep smiling. He didn’t waste time getting back to the first class passengers to try again. Spot waited until they were gone and Jack had made about as much as he was going to make.

“Now,” said Spot, stepping back into the shadows.

Denton hauled his suitcase in front of him. “Hey, kid,” he called. “Gimme a hand?”

Jack glanced over and came down the emptying platform, lifting his cap and running his sleeve over his forehead, his shirt patchy with sweat. He picked up the suitcase and looked around for more. “This all, mister?” he asked. "Where to?"

“Not quite,” said Denton.

Jack looked around, confused. “Sir?”

“Maybe you can help me,” said Denton. “I’ve been carrying this dead weight with me for a while now, so I think it’s your turn to take it.” Jack cocked his head, uncertain what kind of threat that was, when he saw Spot come out of the shadows.

“Think you can, Jack?” asked Spot.

“Spotty!” Jack shouted. He dropped the staircase and threw his arms around Spot. “You made it!” He slapped Spot on the back and turned to Denton. “Who the hell are you?”

“This is Denton,” Spot said. “He’s the one who saved me twice, now. What’re ya doing here, Jack? Thought you was working at some lodge or something.”

“I am,” said Jack. “But I gotta make a little money, too, right.”

“You, ah, just making tips or are ya, you know...” Spot grinned at him, rubbing his fingers of his right hand against his thumb.

“Tips only,” said Jack. “Going straight.”

Spot shook his head. “No money in that, Jacky,” he said.

Jack shrugged. “Maybe not. But it ain’t worth the risk these days.” He held out his hand to Denton. “Jack Sullivan,” he said, as Denton shook it.

“Sullivan?” said Denton and Spot together.

Jack shot them a look. “Didn’t Medda tell you?” Spot shook his head. “Yeah, Jack Sullivan. Newly married to Miss Kathleen O’Donnell,” he said proudly. “I’m gonna be a dad, Spot, can you believe it? Me, Jack Ke.. Sullivan.” He looked at the pair of shocked and tired faces in front of him. “Yeah, so, we can talk more about this later. Where’s your stuff, Spotty? Let’s get you back to the lodge.”

"I got it, Jack," said Spot. "Take Denton's suitcase. He's the one what's loaded and can pay you good." He grinned at Denton. "Ain't that right, Denton."

"I need that money to buy my tools," groused Denton. "I wasn't about to bring my anvil with me."

Jack stopped. "You're staying? You come out to stay?"

"Yeah," said Denton. "Had to make sure Spot made it all the way, and can’t afford a ticket back, so here we are.” He spread out his arms, smiling. “That okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Jack. “You just up and left your place, then?”

“Sold what I could and here I am,” said Denton.

“I offered to burn his place down for him, but he said no,” said Spot, trying to look innocent.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Spot,” said Denton. “Jack, help us out. Where’re we going?”

Jack and Race watched Spot eat at the kitchen table. No way they could sleep now, and neither could Spot evidently. “This Denton fellow, what’s he do?” Jack finally asked, jerking his thumb over at the snoring figure on the floor of the main room.

“Fixes shit,” said Spot, mouth full. “Blacksmith stuff, mostly, but he can do other work too. Taught me, too,” he said proudly, swallowing. “I like it.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack asked. “You wanna work here and fix shit? You wanna do that and still help out in the kitchen too?” Race turned a pleading face to Spot.

“Soon as Denton can get us fixed up, yeah,” said Spot. “Sounds good to me.” He grinned at Race. “You staying here too?” Race nodded, more eagerly than Jack had noticed before. “Good.”

Jack glanced back and forth between them. “So, Spotty, I gotta say it out loud. I never wanted you to go to Sing Sing for me, but, um, thanks. I owe you. You need anything, you just let me know, right? I get tips just about every night, and so I got a little money coming in.”

Spot waved his fork at him. “You don’t owe me nothing. Fuck, Jack, I dunno how you made it there. Just a kid. You got me everything I need right here already,” he said, pointing his fork at the plate. He pointed out the back door. “Carriage house is that way?”

Jack swung his arm wide toward the door. “Yes, sir. Think you can find it?”

“I’ll help him,” said Race. “Wouldn’t want to be inhospitable.”

Jack watched Race lead Spot out to the carriage house. When the fuck did he learn such a big word, he wondered.


	33. Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone was too damn happy lately.

Jack slipped off his boots and crept onto the bed, watching Kath sleep in the moonlight. How could she be even more beautiful than she always had been, he wondered, gazing at her rounded figure. He knelt on his side of the bed, his hand hovering over her stomach. Slowly, gently, he leaned forward to kiss it. He would love this baby. Love it so much. Maybe it was a girl... he tried to picture his little girl, but didn’t get very far. His daughter wouldn’t look like most of the girls he’d known, no. Not like that. He thought harder. Like the girls he’d seen when he was selling, going into stores with their parents. Nice clothes, smiling up at their fathers, coming out with a coat or a book or a toy or something. He’d been so jealous of them before, shoving his papes up towards their fathers’ chests, shouting the headlines, hoping they’d keep spending and buy his pape. Sometimes it had worked, sometimes not. His girl would be like those girls, anyhow. He’d be the father taking her to a store.

But what if it was a boy? His hand shook a little. He wouldn’t know how to be a father to a boy. What would he do with him? The better dressed boys had endlessly amused themselves knocking his papes out of his hands, deliberately shoving him into the gutter, and stealing his cap, tossing it among themselves before throwing it into the street. Fighting with them never ended well, he had soon learned, once the cops came running... But his son, his son would... would what... He didn’t have anything to teach him, though. Kath would have to teach him everything. Jack unexpectedly felt a tear run down his face. Don’t be stupid, Kelly. You can teach your kid how to pick a lock and pick a pocket. How to clean a fucking chimney or sell a pape. How to swing a sledgehammer. How to... no. Don’t think about that. That never happened. He never did that.

Jack dropped his head, furiously wiping away his tear. He’d be a lousy father. He didn’t have the money to take his daughter to a store. He never would. His son would be a criminal just like him. He sucked in a gasp, trying not to cry.

“Darling?” Kath murmured. Jack didn’t answer, moving away to sit on the edge of the mattress, facing away from her. “Jack, is everything okay?”

Jack angrily pulled off his shirt and lay down, still facing away from Kath. He felt her hand on his shoulder, trying to turn him towards her. She gently ran her fingers down the scars at the top of his back. “Jack, what’s wrong?”

Jack wiped away his tears and took a breath. Keep it even, Kelly. Just make the decision and write her a note. “Nothing. I swear. Go back to sleep. The baby needs you to rest.”

Kath sat up and used both hands to turn Jack onto his back. “Jack, you’re crying. Are you hurt?”

“No.” He reached up and stroked her hair. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” He smiled at her. “Go back to sleep.”

“What is it? Jack, what happened? Nobody tipped? Don’t cry about that. We’ll be all right, and there’s always tomorrow.”

She was sweet. As if he’d cry about tips at the station. He smile again and touched her cheek. “Kath, I ain’t no good for this baby. You’re gonna have to do everything for the baby to grow up good.” Kath started shaking her head, but he put up his finger. “You’re better off without me and you know it. So I was thinking, um, maybe I should go get one of them railroad jobs and send money home to you. You know, so you’d have enough for everything you need and for everything the baby’s gonna need. This baby don’t need a bum around like me to screw everything up.”

“Said the man who just kissed the baby,” said Kath, smiling. Her smile faded as she saw Jack stay serious. “What do you mean, you’re no good for the baby? What do you think you mean, going away and sending me money? That’s ridiculous. You’ll be a wonderful father. It makes me smile every time I think about it.”

Jack blinked back another tear. “I don’t know nothing about being a father, Kath. I ain’t got any money, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with a kid.” He looked straight up at the ceiling. “I know what I don’t want to do, but I can’t do the things I wanna do. I don’t have nothing to teach our kid that won’t wind them up in jail, Kath. I’m worthless as a father. Just lemme go and then I can give you and the baby everything you need.”

Kath laid her head down on his shoulder and ran her hand down Jack’s chest. “You’re not leaving. I won’t permit it. If you do leave I will send Spot after you to drag you back again and again and again. You’ll love our child, Jack. You’ll love him or her so much you’ll know just what to do. I promise. The baby will need you, not your money.”

Jack turned his head and smelled her hair. How did she always smell so good, he wondered. He lay there, not wanting to ever move. “I wanna take my kid to a store someday and buy a toy.”

Kath lifted her head and put her chin on his chest. “All right. I’m sure we can manage that at least once before he or she reaches adulthood.”

“I ain’t joking. Don’t joke about it.” Jack’s lip trembled. “I gotta have money to do that.”

Kath kissed his lips and stroked his hair back. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Jack, you will do that someday, I promise.”

“And I don’t wanna die in some bar fight, Kath. I wanna be at home with you.”

“Is that how your father died, in a bar fight?” Kath asked quietly, putting her head back down.

Jack drew in a breath before answering. “Some guy got killed in a bar fight in Brooklyn when I was ten and said the name Jack Kelly, so some of the fellas thought he was my dad. Not that it mattered. I ain’t seen him in years anyhow, the bastard.”

“You won’t die in a bar fight, Jack,” she whispered. “Just stay home with me and the baby.”

“Promise you won’t go nowhere, Kath.” His breath came out all raggedy. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” A silence fell. Jack squeezed his eyes shut, feeling hot tears go down his temples and by his ears. She’s not leaving. She won’t. She just promised.

“She left right before my dad left. I saw her twice after that. Once by accident. I was selling door to door, bad weather, right, and she was there in a, in a brothel house. She didn’t say nothing. Her boss slammed the door in my face. I went back a few months later. One of the girls went to get her but she wouldn’t come to the door. The girl came back and tossed a nickel at me and said not to come back." Jack felt the wooden boards scrape at his fingers as he scrabbled for the nickel, Race waiting by the gate. His throat closed up and he wished he’d never said anything.

“Oh, Jack. Is she still alive?"

“Dunno. Go back to sleep, my love," he said. He couldn’t talk about this any more. His head hurt now, a low throbbing behind his eyes. “I’ve kept you up too much. Don’t mind the ramblings of your ex-con husband.”

“You better be here in the morning, Mr. Sullivan,” said Kath. “If you leave I will name our child Joseph or Josephine.” 

Jack laughed a little despite himself, which made his headache worse. “Vindictive little vixen, ain’t ya.”

“You have no idea,” she said. “I love you, Jack Kelly.” She curled up by his side and pulled his arm over her, kissing his hand. Jack reached inside her nightshirt and rested his hand on the gentle swell of the baby. 


	34. Spot

Spot heard the carriage house door creak open and footsteps cross to the bottom of the ladder.

“Race!” Jack shouted. “Racetrack, you up? Charlie’s looking for you, you lazy bastard!” He hammered on the side of the ladder. “You two lovebirds need to get a move on. Day’s half over.” Spot unwrapped himself from Race, sighing. Who knew you could be happy like this, he thought to himself.

Race reached for him again, but Spot pushed him away. “Go work,” he whispered.

Race gave him a look, but pushed himself up, poking his head over the ladder opening. “You can tell Charlie ain’t no one giving him any deals if I come bargaining in the middle of the night on a Sunday. That kid gets up earlier than any newsie ever did.”

Jack grinned up at him. “He’s the boss. Get moving. You, too, Spotty. Denton said he’s falling behind. He needs you today after breakfast.” He picked up a rake and ran it up and down the ladder rungs. “Let’s go! Them kids eat every day around here!”

Jack waited as Race grumbled by, giving him a slap on the shoulder as he passed. “Hey, Spot,” he shouted. “I been thinking. You gotta change your last name too. They ain’t found us yet, but there’s probably not too many fellas named Spot Conlon around. They’d figure it out.”

Spot came down the ladder and finished tucking in his shirt. “Okay. I’ll think of something. And Jack, uh, I gotta talk to you.”

“Shoot,” said Jack. “What?”

“Not now,” said Spot. “Tonight?”

“Yeah, okay. You got a problem? You need some money? I gotta pay the doctor this week for Kath’s visit, but I can figure it out.” Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to find some money.

Spot shook his head. “I’m good. I got everything I need. I just need to talk to you is all.”

Jack gave him a puzzled look. “All right. After I get back from the station I can talk.” Spot pressed his lips together and gave a short nod before heading over to the kitchen.

Denton looked up with relief as Spot came in. “Glad you’re here. I need help today.”

“Yeah, you got it.” Spot reached for some more wood and used the poker to shove it into the fire. He watched as Denton got out his tongs and started the next job for the day. Santa Fe had plenty of work for a blacksmith, for sure. Denton had his own place in a matter of days. Spot had liked settling in with Jack and Kath and Race, and had already made himself useful as cook and handyman, but he liked slipping away to Denton’s little shop down the street, too. Somehow the hammering wasn’t as noisy as all those boys. The memories of the city faded away when he was here. Pulitzer and prison vanished.

“So, Denton, I got a question for you,” said Spot, concentrating on the fire. 

“What’s that,” said Denton.

“Is Denton your first name or your last name?” The sparks jumped and flew as Spot poked at the logs.

Denton laughed. “Last. I never said?” Spot shook his head. “My first name is Bryan.”

“Oh,” said Spot. He swallowed. Shit. Fucking hell, what was he thinking. He was a grown man, for fuck’s sake. “Jack said I need a new last name. You know, to make it harder for Pulitzer and them to find him.”

Denton paused in his work. “You think they’re still after him?”

“He’s got his daughter, ain’t he?”

“Good point.” Denton looked at Spot. “So what are you thinking? Spot Shakespeare? Spot Poe? Spot Twain?”

“You’re funny, Denton. Real fucking funny.” Spot put the poker’s tip on the ground and twisted it back and forth. “I, uh, I was thinking. Never mind. Spot Twain sounds pretty fucking good.”

Denton watched Spot for a moment, resting his hammer on the anvil. “Spot Denton sounds better, if you wanna know what I think.” He picked up his hammer and started work again. “Don’t matter what I think, of course. But it’s what I think.”

“You think I’m too old to take your name? You want a murderer to have it?” asked Spot. “It ain’t like I’m a kid.”

Denton hammered hard for a few minutes. He looked up at Spot, sweating. “You ever had a dad?”

Spot nodded. “Beat on me till I was seven, then he threw me out.”

“Mhm,” Denton grunted, and then spoke two sentences that Spot would remember the rest of his life. “Take my name. I don’t give a shit how old you are.” 

Spot stared at the ground.

“Gimme that wheel rim, Spot,” said Denton. “Gotta get that one done today.”

“Yes, sir,” said Spot, uprooting himself. “Coming up.”

Spot waited on the front step for Jack to come back. He was later than usual. Kath was already in bed, and Race had finally knocked heads together to get some boys to settle down for the night. Charlie had pushed Race hard today, for sure. Kid knew what he wanted. Slow Charlie, Spot laughed to himself. Right. He thought back to when Charlie had drawn a gun on him, his face bright and intense and hard, not at all the slack look he had usually worn. Clever kid.

Spot Denton, is that it, he asked himself. Spot Denton. Sounded strange, but he liked how he felt when he said it. Not that anyone had asked him his name, but you never knew. Spot glanced down the street and saw Jack walking toward the house. Musta been a busy night. He watched Jack come and throw himself down on the stoop next to him.

Jack jingled his pockets and smiled up at Spot. “Not too bad,” he said. Spot nodded. “What you wanna see me about?”

Spot leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees so he couldn’t see Jack’s face anymore. “What do you remember about your dad, Jack?”

He heard Jack suck in his breath. “What’s this about? As far as I know my old man is dead.”

“Answer the question.”

“He was a drunk what made me go to the bars to get his beer for him even when we didn’t have nothing to eat. He skipped out, and then Race said he heard he died in a bar fight. What’s it to you?” Jack’s voice was tense, coiling.

“What’d he look like?”

“I said, what’s it to you?” Jack sat up and yanked Spot around to face him. “You gonna draw me a picture of him?” he snarled.

Spot kept calm. “Just tell me what he looked like.”

Jack pushed Spot away. “Dark hair. Strong. I dunno. What the fuck, Spot?” He got up and stood facing Spot, one foot up on the step.

Spot took a big breath. “That bar fight. They ever told you who killed your old man?”

Jack leaned in. “I don’t know if it was even him. What the fuck is this about.”

“It was him,” said Spot. “I was there, working. Your old man come in and started spouting off that his kid run off, his kid Jack Kelly. I told him that ain’t true. I seen you when you was little. Blue told me about you. I got your coat for you cuz you was freezing to death. But your old man, he cut me with his knife.” Spot rolled up his sleeve to show Jack the scar. “I twisted him around and run the knife back into him. I killed him, Jack.”

Jack stared at him, breathing hard. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I do that, hm?” Spot asked. “I murdered your old man. ‘S why I was at Pulitzer’s.” 

Spot didn’t block Jack’s punch. Or the next. Or the next. He rolled off the stoop into the street and curled into a ball as Jack kicked him. He heard Jack grunt with each kick, each one stronger than the last. He felt some ribs give way. He didn’t resist when Jack hauled him up and smashed his fist into his face again. And again. And again. 

Spot came to, still lying in the street, a blurry Gummy looking down at him in the early morning light. “Jack said to get to work. You need a hand?” Spot tried to nod, groaning as Gummy heaved him up and all but dragged him to the kitchen. 

Gummy dropped him in a chair. “Jack’s pissed. You’re late. Tell me what to do and I’ll help you out.” Spot pointed at the potato bin. “Cut those up?”

Spot nodded. He gently probed his ribs, hissing. Denton would not be happy about this, if he couldn’t lift very well. “Scrub ‘em first.”

“Who did that do you?” Gummy asked, finding the scrub brush and pail. “You got beat good.”

“Jack,” said Spot.

Gummy nodded. “Jack knocked me around when he first come too, but not like he done to you. He gave me a bloody nose and a black eye is all, mostly cuz I was an asshole.”

“So’m I,” said Spot. “Guess we both deserved it.”

“Guess we did.”

Jack came into the kitchen, his eyes sunken, his knuckles bruised and swollen. Spot pushed himself up slowly and faced him. “You ain’t done. Have at it.”

Jack stared at him dully. “You helped me at Pulitzer’s. You saved me there. You said you was me when you got arrested in Kansas City.” 

Spot nodded. “Yeah.”

“Cuz you killed my old man.”

“Yeah.”

“You feel guilty for killing that piece of shit.”

Spot sighed. “Yeah. Just hit me, wouldja.”

Jack surveyed Spot. “Did I break your ribs?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

Jack nodded. “Sorry about that.”

“I had it coming. You gonna beat the shit outta me again or what.”

“Nah,” said Jack. “I’m done. You want me to fix breakfast? Looks like Gummy forgot how to work.”

Gummy picked up another potato. “Sorry, Jack. I just... sorry.” He gave Spot a nervous look.

“What,” said Jack. “I hired a murderer as our cook, yeah. You got a problem, Gummy?”

“No, sir,” said Gummy. “No problem here.”

Jack grinned at Spot. “I didn’t think so. And Gummy, don’t go blabbing about this to no one, you got me?”

“Yes, sir,” said Gummy. “I don’t blab.”

Jack held out his hand to Spot. Spot grimaced as he reached out to shake it. “You kill anyone else I should know about, Spotty? You kill my mother too?”

“No, boss,” said Spot. “That’s all I can remember.” 

Jack tilted Spot’s face with his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up before you scare the shit out of the littles, all right?” 


	35. Money Talks

“I don’t know, Jack,” said Katherine, frustrated. “Mrs. Colfax said just to come walk me home when I finished today.”

Jack raised his eyebrows skeptically and sat back on his knees, dropping a blanket back into the washtub. “What, to help celebrate her laying you off? That’s cheery. You’re feeling fine, yeah? Why can’t you work no more?”

“It’s not done, sweetheart,” said Kath. “Not when you look like I do these days. Please just come and make her happy. I do want her to hire me back someday, you know.”

Jack scoffed. “Yeah. You like her so much you burn her old dresses. You like being a maid so much you just can’t wait to get back and scrub them floors.”

“Just be there.”

Jack leaned forward and scrubbed the blanket again. “Yeah. I’ll be there.” He watched her go, guilt splashing him for wanting her to keep working.

He sloshed the littles’ blankets around one last time. Denton was right. They were filthy. So was Jack, for that matter. He pulled one blanket out of the tub and dragged it over to the clothesline Kath had rigged up. He squeezed as much water as he could out of the blanket and draped it over the line, smacking himself in the face with the blanket more than once. He reached for the next one. He’d make the bigger kids do their own tomorrow, he promised himself.

Jack finished up chopping the wood and poked his head into the kitchen. “I’m heading over to get Kath,” he said to Spot, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Denton gonna be here soon? You asked him, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Spot. He looked at Jack, his face still a mass of bruised color. “You ain’t going over there looking like that, are ya?”

Jack looked at him blankly. “What?”

“They asked you to come get Kath? On her last day?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So you’re gonna get invited inside, asshole.” Spot pointed his knife at Jack. “You can’t go over there like that. Get cleaned up, man. Get a clean shirt on if you got one.”

Jack bit his lip. “Can’t,” he said. “I do that, I’ll be late. My other shirt got a big hole in the elbow.”

“And the one you got on’s all dirty,” Spot said disgustedly. “Ain’t you ever been nowhere?”

“Shaddup,” snapped Jack. “Like you been places.”

“I worked at Pulitzer’s long enough to know,” said Spot. “But never mind. Just get going and don’t act like you don’t know nothing. Didn’t Kath tell you to clean up?”

“No,” said Jack defensively.

“Probably figured a grown man would know to put on a clean shirt before going to that end of town,” huffed Spot. “Hey, get that pot of water on the stove for me, wouldja? Someone busted up my ribs.”

Jack heaved the pot onto the stove, gave Spot the finger, and left. Spot sure thought he knew everything. He put too many onions in his stew. Jack would tell him that when he got back. Even Charlie thought so. Well, him and Denton could eat all them onions while he was inside this lady’s house, having, um, something better. Would he really be asked to go in? Would he get to eat something? He shoulda had some bread before leaving. He was starving, come to think of it. They’d probably just drop kick him and Kath to the curb, Kelly. They ain’t gonna be nice about nothing. Don’t kid yourself. One look at him and they’d call the cops, probably.

Jack drew in a breath when he reached the Colfax’s house. Big, like them in the nicer neighborhoods in the city. He went around to the back entrance and knocked. The cook came to the door and peered down at him on the step.

“I’m Jack Sullivan,” he said. “Mrs. Colfax asked me to come get Kath at the end of her day, since it’s her last for a while.”

The cook squinted her eyes at Jack as she pushed open the door. “Come in. I know she’s expecting you.” Fuck, he had to go in. Damn, Spotty. Jack wiped his hands on his pants as he stepped inside. “Wait here.”

Jack stood rooted to the spot, taking in the kitchen. He’d peeked at Pulitzer’s kitchen, but had never been allowed inside. This kitchen was magnificent. The cook’s assistant looked over at him and giggled. Jack felt his face turn beet red. He should have changed his shirt.

Kath came in with the cook and stopped. “Jack,” she breathed. “Jack, what’re you doing? Mrs. Colfax wants us in her drawing room. You’re filthy.” 

What the fuck was a drawing room, he wondered. Kath had talked about dusting it, hadn’t she? “You didn’t say nothing about no drawing room,” he protested as Kath desperately tried to wipe at his face with a dish towel. 

“Oh, never mind. Come on,” Kath muttered. Jack followed her out of the kitchen, through a dining room, and into what must be the drawing room. 

Mrs. Colfax sat by the window at a small table, covered with little plates of tiny cakes and her tea, Jack guessed. 

“Jack, this is Mrs. Colfax,” said Kath. “Mrs. Colfax, this is my husband, Jack.” Jack remembered to take off his cap. He didn’t move. Silence.

“Mrs. Colfax,” stammered Jack eventually. “How you doing.” He heard Kath smother a tiny groan. He should say something else. A compliment. Rich folks like compliments. “Them cakes look pretty.” Kath squeaked.

“Hello, Jack,” Mrs. Colfax said smoothly. “I simply wanted to congratulate you and Kathleen on the start of your family.”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you,” said Jack as Mrs. Colfax sipped at her tea. His stomach let out a roar, which fortunately was loud and long enough it also managed to cover Kath’s second groan. “Please, um, please hire Kath back someday, if you think you got the money. The pay was real good. And thanks for the dresses. They been useful.” 

He saw Kath take a step forward. “Thank you, Mrs. Colfax,” she practically screamed. “It has been a pleasure. Thank you for all of your generosity. We’ll be on our way.” She pulled at Jack’s sleeve.

Mrs. Colfax nibbled at a cake. “You run the lodge now, Jack? The one Mr. Kloppman used to run?”

Jack twisted his cap. Here it came. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Kathleen tells me about how you wrangle all those boys, and do it well.”

Jack provided Mrs. Colfax with an awkward face, half smiling, half wanting to throw up. “I dunno about that. I got a place for us to live, so that’s good.”

“You also beg at the station, yes?” She sipped again at her tea.

Jack choked. _Beggar at the door, Mama. Kids staring at him. Rain dripping down his legs as he waited for his penny._ “I work for tips. Ma’am.” Jack felt Kath’s hand move down his sleeve and take his hand. He had to get out of here. Just leave. Leave now.

Mrs. Colfax waved her hand dismissively. “Poor choice of words on my part. I apologize. I meant, you are having a difficult time making ends meet?”

Jack flushed. He gripped Kath’s hand hard. “We’re fine. We’ll be going now. Thank you, Mrs. Colfax.”

Mrs. Colfax sighed. “I’m not making myself clear. I’ve been impressed with what Kathleen has shared, and yes, I would like to hire her back someday. Mr. Colfax and I are looking for a charity that would be unique in the community. Is there something we can do that would be helpful for the lodge?”

Kathleen gasped, squeezing Jack’s hand. “Jack,” she whispered.

Jack drew himself up. Fuck it. This lady had no idea, casting around for a pet project to make herself look good. Try this one on for size, you arrogant fuck. “Rent,” he said. “We need money so’s we don’t all get kicked out.” He stared at Mrs. Colfax, daring her to know more than he did on this front. “Can you do that?”

Mrs. Colfax smiled a genuine smile. “I can do better than that, Jack. I will buy the property. You will never have another rent payment.”

Jack pushed out his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Oh yeah? And you get what?”

She smiled sweetly. “Three things. Filling a genuine need in our city. Naming the lodge. And hiring Kathleen back as soon as she is able. She has worked on me for months to support the lodge, Jack. I want her on my staff as more than a maid next time.”

Jack nodded. He pointed his chin at the cakes on the table. “Them any good?”

“Why don’t you and Kathleen sit here with me and find out,” said Mrs. Colfax. “We have plenty to talk about, don’t you think?”


	36. The Visit

Jack moved the chair a little to the left. No. Put it back. Maybe the other one should go to the left. Nope. Hell. Jack rubbed at a spot on the long table with his sleeve for the fourth time, knowing full well he couldn’t rub out Race’s cigarette burn mark. He made the mistake of checking the window in the fading sunlight, which made his streaky effort to clean it look painfully inadequate. Don’t screw this up, Kelly. You screw up and you got all the boys on the street, and your wife and baby too. Don’t screw this up. How the fuck did Kloppman get this place to begin with. He ran his sweaty hands down the front of his pants.

“She ain’t gonna make her decision offa where the chairs is, Jacky. Worst case you end up where you is now,” said Spot, leaning against the door jamb, startling Jack back into the moment.

“Just make sure everything’s ready, will ya? Please?” Jack moved another chair.

Spot raised his eyebrows and sauntered back into the kitchen. Not half a second later, Romeo slammed open the back door, knocking one of Spot’s bowls onto the floor as he strode through the kitchen. 

“Hey!” shouted Spot. “Watch where you’re going! That’s special for tonight!” 

Romeo kept going, dirt crumbling from his boots, the saddle he was holding almost hiding him entirely from Jack. “Look, Jack!” He heaved the saddle onto the previously clean table, grinning from ear to ear. "We finished!"

“Nooo!!” cried Jack. “On the floor! On the floor! What’re you doing!”

“We fixed it!” Romeo exclaimed. “Gummy and me, all by ourselves! Look!” But Jack had rushed to the kitchen to grab the broom from Spot (“Hey!” Spot shouted again.) and desperately try to clean up the mess Romeo had made coming into the dining room. 

“Romeo, you’re wrecking everything! You want us to get kicked out?” Jack tried to stop shouting, but he could not hide his desperation. She’d be here any minute. “Go get cleaned up! You look like you ain’t seen water since you was born!” Romeo scowled at Jack and stomped up the stairs.

“All you fellas better be ready,” Jack shouted up the stairs. “This ain’t no fucking joke! You wanna place to stay, we gotta do this right!”

Jack heard Romeo slam a door or two and stomp on the floor as well. He sighed, but stopped when he saw the saddle still on the table. Shit. He grabbed it, realizing he hadn’t changed his clothes either from the day, and Kath would really kill him this time, when he heard the knock at the door.

Spot came to the kitchen entry and saw Jack with his hands full. “I’ll get it,” he said, dashing over to open the door, wiping his hands on his stained apron.

“No...” Jack said, too late. Spot hadn’t exactly recovered from Jack’s beating just yet. Jack had hoped he could, well, hide Spot in the kitchen...

“Mrs. Colfax, hi,” said Spot. “I’m Spot.” He stood aside as Mrs. Colfax came in. Jack offered a little smile as he stood frozen, holding the saddle.

“Hello, Jack,” she said. “Going somewhere?”

Jack unfroze, almost throwing the saddle at Spot. “No, ma’am. I, uh, won’t you come in,” he said stiffly, jerking his head at Spot to get lost.

“Is he all right?” Mrs. Colfax asked, watching Spot stagger back to the kitchen with the saddle. “He looks like he had quite an encounter.”

“He’s fine,” said Jack.

“Jack kicked the shit outta me,” Spot shouted from the kitchen. “Broke my ribs. And I let him cuz I'm an asshole.”

Mrs. Colfax turned to Jack, her face a question. 

“He... he...” started Jack. Mother of God. Focus, Kelly. What did Kath tell him to say. “Won’t you sit down? Kath ain’t feeling too good tonight and said she was real sorry, but I can show you around just as good. I mean, I know you said you wanted to buy the place, but you was right to say you wanted to see it first.” He pulled out a chair, scraping it loudly across the rough floor. Good. Just like you practiced. Mrs. Colfax sat gingerly in the rickety chair.

“Spotty!” he shouted. Mrs. Colfax jumped. “Get the pudding!”

Spot kicked the swinging door open and came out with a bowl of pudding and some coffee. “Here ya go. Hope it’s good.” He stood there, watching her. Mrs. Colfax obliged and tried a spoonful of the pudding. She smiled weakly at Spot. Spot nodded triumphantly and pointed at her. “You want more, you just yell.”

As Spot returned to the kitchen, Mrs. Colfax stood and faced Jack, who was still standing behind her. “How about a tour?”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, you’re in the dining room. We eat here,” Jack started. He pointed at the kitchen. “Spot does most of our cooking now. He ain’t bad. He had lots of practice, uh, earlier. Anyway, we got a couple a big rooms over here where the boys play po... games. Some of them used to sleep down here but I made ‘em all move up to the bunk rooms. You wanna see?” Mrs. Colfax nodded.

Spot was carrying the saddle to the back door when Denton came in.

"Going somewhere?" Denton joked. Spot rolled his eyes. "How's it going?"

"Jack's gone crazy," said Spot. "He's got himself all tied up in knots over this. She ain't gonna buy this place if she thinks Jack's nuts. I dunno how he got her to come in the first place. Kath is sick and so Jack's lost it completely now."

Denton let out a small hum. "That the saddle Gummy and Romeo been working on?"

Spot nodded. "Nice, ain't it." He watched as Denton took it from him and carried it back out to the dining room table, and sat down to wait.

Jack led Mrs. Colfax up the stairs. “Boys, you better be ready.” He heard them rustle and shuffle into place and prayed hard that they would listen.

He led her into the littles’ room first. “The little guys sleep in here,” he said. He looked with satisfaction at the boys standing at attention at the end of their bunks. They was pretty clean. “What do you say, fellas?”

“Good evening, Mrs. Colfax,” they chorused miserably. Romeo shot Jack a bitter look.

“Good evening, boys,” she said quietly.

Jack cleared his throat. “The bigger guys are in the next room.” He led her in, and once again he was pleased to see them similarly standing at attention like he’d told them to. If nothing else the Refuge had beat a couple of manners into him, he thought sourly. Damn if he didn't know how to do an inspection.

“Good evening, Mrs. Colfax,” they mumbled.

“Try again,” Jack snapped.

“Good evening, Mrs. Colfax,” they said, louder.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said gently. Gummy offered her a smile, which quickly disappeared as Jack met his eyes.

“Washroom’s down that way,” Jack pointed out on their way back to the staircase. Mrs. Colfax nodded silently.

Jack led her back downstairs, stopping suddenly as he saw Denton sitting at one of the long tables, saddle right in front of him. Denton gave him a big smile. Jack tried not to panic as he walked slowly into the dining room.

"Denton, this is Mrs. Colfax." His voice cracked nervously. Did Denton hate him this much? Didn't he care that he had a baby coming? "Mrs. Colfax, this is, uh, Denton."

"How do you do, Mrs. Colfax," said Denton, standing. "Bryan Denton. I'm a friend of Spot and Jack."

"How do you do," she replied. "This saddle seems to have a habit of disappearing and reappearing," she said, smiling at him.

"I thought you'd want to see it," he said, as Jack nearly passed out from shame. "Jack had one of the older boys help one of the younger ones learn how to work in the livery in town. They found this old saddle in the carriage house here and brought it back to life, as you can see. I should add, the younger boy nearly was sent to jail, but for Jack. He found the boy better employment and identified a capable older boy to help look out for him. Two birds with one stone, wouldn't you say?"

"Denton," said Jack, teeth gritted. "Mrs. Colfax ain't interested in no dirty saddle." Jack had screwed up, sure as the sun. He pushed the heel of his palm into his eye. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Colfax. I bet Kath made me out better’n I am. And they was rude, the boys. They was supposed to be cleaned up and I made ‘em practice, but some of ‘em don’t listen so good. But that’s my fault. I’m real sorry. We can just forget the whole thing.” He’d tell Kath in the morning. Not like they'd have a lot to pack.

Mrs. Colfax turned to him, a puzzled look on her face. "Jack, this saddle is wonderful. I'd feel much better about supporting the lodge knowing you looked out for these boys like this. They looked like prisoners upstairs. Why on earth would you do that to them when you do wonderful things like this?" she asked, gesturing to the saddle.

Jack sucked in his breath. How else should he have done this, he wondered. Spot seemed to think Jack was on the right track, but what the fuck did he know, Jack thought furiously. Spent half his life in the Refuge himself. At least Jack hadn’t come in to the bunk rooms ready to... Jack tried to push it all back. He hadn’t hit anyone. Not like he'd gone in there with a cane. He clenched his fists, willing away the memory of the cane cracking down on his open hands during inspection, searing them for days, making it nearly impossible to work in the mill, which led to...

“Jack?"

Jack snapped back. “I just wanted them to be polite, Mrs. Colfax. I guess I don’t know much about that.” He stopped, awkwardly. He wished Denton would leave.

Denton came over and put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "There's a place for being polite, Jack. But I think what Mrs. Colfax is saying is that she wants to know how the boys _live_." He went over to the staircase and peered up the stairs. "Boys! Come on down! I need someone to beat me at something!" The roar and clatter of boys coming down the hall and down the stairs had Mrs. Colfax reaching for the table. The littles jumped off the last few steps onto Denton's back, the older ones close behind, shouting the names of the games they wanted to play with him. Jack bit his lip. He liked it when the boys did that with _him._ He'd told them no games today, and now... He glanced over at the clock, blinking back tears, and was taken aback at the time. He'd be late for the train.

"Mrs. Colfax, I gotta go. The next train's coming in soon," he said. "Denton can show you around some more if you want." He didn't wait for a reply as he rushed out the front door, the late fall air biting through his shirt. He rubbed the tears from his eyes, furious that he'd messed everything up. How would he explain all this to Kath. They'd be out by the end of the week, with no place to go. Again. He'd never be a good father. Worse than his own, even. He'd better hurry if he wanted some money. They'd need it.


	37. Can We Get Jack Some Therapy Please

“Yes, sir, you have a nice visit, sir,” said Jack, handing the older man his valise. He looked for a sign that he’d get a tip, relieved to see the man move his hand toward his pocket. Jack took a breath and nodded gratefully in anticipation, stopping when the man handed Jack a gold coin. “Mister, you ain’t seeing right in the dark.” He held it up. “You sure?”

The man smiled at him. “Blessed to be a blessing,” he said, and reached to close the carriage door, forcing Jack to step away.

“Thanks, mister,” Jack called. “Thank you!” At least something went right this evening. He rubbed his hands together to warm them up, adding up the tips he’d gotten. Not bad, Kelly. 

As the last passengers left the platform for the night, Jack felt his mind closing in again as he thought about the visit. He blew on his hands and stuck them in his armpits. Time to go home. His prison. Prisoners, hm. Figures that's what anyone would see with him in charge. That’s all he could ever do, run a prison or be a prisoner. He’d never escape, not even in Santa Fe. He pushed and pushed against the memories to no avail. He’d worked so hard to forget, too. He felt the coins in his pocket and started down the street. Like a handful of change would make a difference to Kath. She'd be leaving him soon anyway once she found out what he’d done at Mrs. Colfax’s visit.

"Gimme another," he demanded.

The bartender shook his head. "You've had enough, pal. Time to go home."

Home. What home. Lost the best home he'd ever had. And what did she know about prisoners, anyway.

"It ain’t like I beat them kids, you know. It’s nicer than any jail I seen,” he mumbled. Where was Race. They could share a bottle, like old times. Jack swung his head around, seeing if Race had shown up.

The bartender leaned over the counter, arms braced. "Time to go. You had enough."

Jack examined his empty mug. "I got the money! Ain't nothing in here," he said quietly, tensely, pointing at the mug. "And I don't need you telling me what I need and what I don't, get it? I know what I'm doing. Them kids, I take care of them, right? Ain't nobody hurt. Ain't no jail." He slammed his mug down. "I said, gimme another!" Where was Race. Hell, he'd get Race another too. "Racetrack! Come get another!"

No Race. Jack glared up at the bartender, who hadn't moved. He shifted around as a couple of men moved in closer to him. So this was how it was gonna be, hm. At least he knew how to fight this kind of fight. He had no idea how to fight some know-it-all lady who made him out to be some kind of warden. He'd done everything right, and she... She saw prisoners. She didn't see how good the boys ate. She didn't see how he'd washed their blankets. She didn't see how he made sure the littles didn't get shoved around. She didn't see how he knew each kid's story. She didn't see the fights he broke up. She didn't see how he taught them how to play poker and checkers and how to sew on a button. She didn't see him make sure everyone had a decent set of clothes somehow. She didn't see him dry their tears when they snuck into his room for a hug. She didn't see anything. She wanted to see prisoners? Fine. She'd get one. He was good at being one.

"Get him outta here," the bartender ordered. Jack swung his mug toward the face of the guy on his left, smashing it into his temple. He felt himself thrown to the floor, but kept swinging. He was doing good, from the sound of the grunts of other men, and the solid punches he was landing. He was doing real good. No one was landing anything on him. Not that he could feel, anyhow. He kept swinging until the cuffs snapped around his wrists.

The baton hit hard on the bars on his cell. "Sullivan, get up. You're out," said the sheriff. "Don't come back." Jack lifted his head slowly, hoping there weren't really two sheriffs standing there. "Hear me? Get up." Jack pushed against the wall and kept leaning on it as the cell door was unlocked. He waited until the sheriff reached in, grabbed the front of his shirt, and yanked him out, pushing him down the hall. He looked blearily for the door, stopping only when he saw Kath and Denton. Fuck. This was no place for Kath to be. He pulled at his shirt, trying to straighten it. The gold piece. He'd show it to her. He stuck his hands in his pockets, scrounging for it. No luck. Not even a penny was left.

"Kath," he said, his voice raspy. "I had a gold piece. I did good. I was gonna show it to you."

Kath didn't move, her face stony.

"Kath," he said again. "I'm sorry. Mrs. Colfax, I messed up. She's right. I run a prison. She ain't gonna buy it, Kath." He felt the tears come again as he reached out for her, stopping when he saw his hands covered in dirt and blood. He wiped them on his shirt. "I'll take care of you, I will. If you want me to. You're leaving, ain't ya. Kath, don't, please..."

Kath looked away, out the window, her chin trembling. Denton stepped toward Jack. "Let's get Kath home, please, Jack."

Jack looked at Denton and nodded as he ran his wrist under his nose. "Okay." He walked next to Kath, trying twice to hold her hand. Twice she pushed him away. Jack opened the door for her at the lodge, hoping she would look at him. She walked straight in and went to their room, shutting the door. The lodge was awfully quiet. He looked at Denton.

"The boys aren't here. Gummy's in charge of them for now." Jack nodded. "She was worried, Jack," he said. "You didn't come home, and the next thing she knew Charlie was over here telling her there'd been a fight at the bar near him and saw you getting arrested in the street." He took Jack by the elbow and steered him into the big room. Charlie, Race, and Spot were there, sitting silently on the worn out, overstuffed chairs and sofa. Race had his arm around Spot as Spot leaned into him. Charlie sat closest to the fireplace. Denton parked Jack in a chair before settling in the rocking chair near Charlie.

Jack took a deep breath. "Sorry, fellas. Turns out I run a prison. It ain't gonna work out. Spotty, you gotta find another job. And we can't stay here no more. I'll tell the boys tonight." He flickered a nervous look at Denton. "You come out here for nothing, I guess."

Denton's face was unreadable. "Is that what you think happened?" he asked. Jack tightened his jaw as he fumbled with his shirt, trying to match up some of buttonholes with buttons that were now missing. His hands wouldn't cooperate. "Jack, answer me."

Jack gave up and leaned forward, his voice a dark whisper. "Of course that's what happened. You was there. She called them prisoners. Then she saw how much they liked you and hated me, and then I had to get to work, and now I've fucked everything up again. Jack Kelly, jailbird and warden, all in one. So yeah, I got drunk. It's been a while. It felt good, and you can all go fuck yourselves."

Spot moved to sit up, but sat back at a motion from Denton. "Mrs. Colfax stayed for some time last night, Jack, talking with the boys. She took some notes, and I'd like to read them to you," said Denton.

"What, advice on how to beat the shit outta the boys? Maybe I don't starve them enough? Cuz I can do that, if she wants a jail," Jack said bitterly. "I can make this place a real shitty jail for her next visit."

Denton waited. "You done? Listen up." He held up the sheet so Jack knew he was reading from her notes. "Jack got me a new pair of pants when I come and they fit good. Jack showed me how to comb my hair so I look good. Jack knows when I'm kinda sad. I get to eat every day. Jack saw a big kid push me and he got in big trouble. I like it here because Jack don't hit me. When my mother died Jack gave me a box to keep her bracelet in. Jack's an asshole but if you do what he says he'll leave you alone." Charlie snorted.

Jack shrugged. "So?"

Denton let out an exasperated sigh. "Jack, she still wants to buy the place. These boys, they put up with you yesterday because they respect you. She understood that, after talking with them. Do you understand what I'm saying? She doesn't know you have a record, Jack. She had no way of knowing that saying the boys looking like prisoners would make you angry."

She wants to buy the place. Jack's hearing had stopped right there. "Say that first part again."

"You heard me. But she had a request... Jack..." Jack was gone.

Jack opened the door to their bedroom, where Kath lay on the bed, facing away from him. "Kath?" he whispered. "Kath, you awake?" Silence. "I'm sorry. Kath, I'm sorry. I thought I'd lost it all--you, the baby, this house, the job, everything. But Denton just said... he said she’s still gonna buy it.”

“I know that.”

“Mrs. Colfax, she said the boys looked like prisoners. I had them ready for inspection, Kath. I didn't know how it looked... I didn't know. The boys hated it. She hated it. I tried, Kath, but I'm so stupid." He came around and knelt by her side of the bed, his elbows on the mattress. She braced her middle and rolled away. 

“I know that too.”

Jack tumbled through his head. “I’m sorry. I won’t get drunk again. I just didn’t know what to do after I fucked up so bad.”

“Instead of coming home to me to talk about it, you head for a bar. You said you didn't want to die in a bar fight. And you go out and start a bar fight and wind up in jail. What happened to being at home with me? What about not wanting to die like your father did?"

Jack rubbed his eyes. “I thought you’d leave me.” He sank back on his ankles. “I wasn’t even gonna be able to give you a room. Even my old man did that. Made me a little mad that I couldn’t do better than him.”

“You are a thousand times the man your father was, Jack. I was worried.”

Jack looked at her back. She’d been worried. “Why?”

Kath rolled back over, slowly. She studied his face. “Why? Why?? I thought you might be hurt, and I was right, wasn’t I? Maybe I worried because I love you? Isn’t that why people worry?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” It sounded right, anyway. He wasn’t hurt that bad. Definitely nothing to worry about.

“Jack, you have to talk to me.”

“Tell me what to say, then. I didn’t think no one would notice if I stayed out a little later. Race and me did it all the time. Booze made things easier sometimes, you know? But things been going good out here, and we didn’t do that no more. And then when Mrs. Rich Lady shows up and tells me I’m a fucking warden, it ain’t a good feeling, right? I fucked up. I didn’t think no one would care if I got a little drunk is all. And why worry if I’m hurt? That don’t make any sense. So yeah, if you wanna leave and find someone better and smarter, go ahead. Go find someone else.” He didn’t like the long silence that followed.

Kath sighed. “You will always be impossible, won’t you.” Jack shrugged, looking down at his hands. Wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever been called. Kath deepened her voice. “And it ain't never over with you and me, unnerstand?" Jack looked up, a spark in his eyes. A shadow of a smile crept onto his face. “House or no house, job or no job, don’t never worry me like that again, yeah? You tawk to me.”

Jack grinned at her. “Yes, boss. More talking. No more bar fights.”

Kath reached out and lightly put her fist on his cheekbone. "You be careful who you mess with," she said. "It might just be me."


	38. How Good of an Idea Is This, One Might Legitimately Ask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short. Sorry. Hope you are still entertained.

Jack pulled away from the long kiss and stroked Kath’s hair. “You gonna be okay if I go back out? Denton said he had more to tell me.”

Kath nodded. “I just need to rest a bit. I didn’t sleep well last night, you know.”

Jack smiled guiltily. “Sorry. I’ll try to keep everyone quiet today.” Kath nodded again and closed her eyes. Jack stroked her hair one more time, kissed her forehead, and silently got to his feet. He looked down at his hands, remembering he still hadn’t cleaned up from the previous night. Denton was waiting.

“That ain’t funny, Denton.” Jack looked at Race, Charlie and Spot. They weren’t laughing. Race whispered something into Spot’s ear. Spot startled, then smiled.

“Don’t fuck with me, boys. He’s kidding, right?” Jack didn’t see any sign of a joke yet.

Denton kept that goofy smile on his face. “No joke, Jack. It’s what she wants. I said I’d help, if that matters to you at all. I’m here enough as it is.”

Jack stood there, stupefied. “Why not Kath?”

“Don’t you think it would be a bit much, working as Mrs. Colfax’s secretary and then coming here to work some more? When would she spend time with the baby?” Denton scolded gently.

Jack gulped, fingering his wrinkled, smelly shirt. He stared down at his worn boots, then up at Race. “Race,” he said. “Race, you do it.” Race met his eyes, and Jack silently pleaded with him. 

_Jack followed the group of boys, books slung over their backs, tied with straps. Why not. Maybe someone inside would buy from him. He went up the steps of the school and entered their classroom unnoticed. He stayed by the wall, watching the buzz of the students settling in, getting their books out, finding their seats. Jack went over to the bookcase near him, touching the books. He slipped one into his bag. He gazed at the chalkboard with the letters written on it. Blue had had a little slate to show him letters on. This board was huge. Jack liked it in here... sliding into an empty seat, he gazed up at the pictures and maps on the wall. Hey, outta my seat. Mr. Wallace! Suddenly the classroom was silent. Jack hadn’t seen the teacher arrive, who was now striding towards him. Jack found himself jerked in front of the class. Why we need social order... criminal element will infiltrate if you don’t pay attention... didn’t pay to be here, stealing your education... infections he brings with his filth... Jack’s teeth rattled as he was shaken. Jack could see the smirks and giggles until a blow snapped his head back. The doors flung wide as he was tossed down the stone steps to the street. He steadied himself on his hands and knees, hearing the laughing from the windows of the classrooom. He felt blood trickle down his cheek as he reached for a stone and flung it at the window. Laughing turned to shrieks. Jack threw another, reveling in the sound of broken glass. He reached for a third. Jack! Jacky! Race shouted from down the street, but it was too late._

_Snyder sat back and put his feet on his desk. Jack faced him, hands braced on the other side, his shirt on the floor. Begin with thirty, Mr. Wallace. At your pleasure. I appreciate the courtesy, Mr. Snyder. Snyder waved his hand, smiling. I’ll have the next six months with him._

Race looked at Jack hard. “You can do it, Jack.”

Jack turned to Denton. “You swear you’ll help?” Denton smiled and nodded. “What if I ain’t any good? I don’t even talk right.”

Denton got up and came over to Jack, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Then you’ll learn too. It’s just an hour a night, Jack. And it’ll be more than what you get hoping for tips. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Jack gave him a shaky smile. “No, I guess not. You really think I can do this?”

Denton grinned at him. “Only one way to find out, right?” 

Jack looked around the room. “If that’s the deal with Mrs. Colfax, then I guess that’s how it’s gonna be, huh. Get me, fellas. Jack Sullivan, teacher.” He almost felt shy looking at Race, saying that. Race whispered again into Spot’s ear. Spot waved at him to be quiet and sat up a little.

“No more nights in the pokey, right,” said Spot. “We ain’t sending kids over there for their lessons.” Jack half smiled. “But listen, if you do fuck up again and set a bad example, I’m gonna take over and read to them till you dry out. You should let me help too, Jack.”

Jack groaned. “This is gonna be the worst school ever. Mrs. Colfax got no idea.” 

“At least I’m set,” said Charlie. “When all you clowns mess this up, you can see if I’m hiring dishwashers.”

Denton turned to Charlie. “You’re not off the hook, you know. Mrs. Colfax wants to know what you’re doing to help charitable organizations, now that you run your own place. Maybe donate a meal every now and then? Maybe hire a kid or two from here?”

Charlie shook his head. “She got her hooks in everything, don’t she. Yeah, okay. So this place, sorry, the Colfax Home for Boys, is gonna poison the minds and bodies of every single kid here.”

Denton smiled. “That’s about the size of it, yes, sir. They’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” He gave Jack a once over. “You better get cleaned up, Mr. Sullivan. You got a place to run.”

Jack suddenly felt the weight of Mrs. Colfax’s request come back down on him again. Before he thought about it, he moved in towards Denton, relieved to see him put out his arms. “You’ll do fine, Jack,” Denton said, holding him tight. “Just the basics. We’re gonna help, remember that.” Remember that, Kelly.


	39. Change Really Is Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are my oxygen, y’all.

The boys stared at Jack. “You hate us that bad, Jack,” Rope asked. “We thought we did good with your inspection.”

”You did, fellas,” said Jack, looking nervously at Denton. “You guys did great. Mrs. Colfax liked you good enough she wants to make sure everyone here can read some and know how to add and all that. Some of you guys already know, and that’s good. If you want, you can help out. But for an hour each night, except for Sundays, you gotta be here learning something unless you gotta work. If you gotta work, then I write that down and tell Mrs. Colfax. That’s the deal.”

The groaning started up again. Spot leaned against the doorway in the back, shaking his head.

“Hey, hey!” Jack shouted, starting to get angry. “You guys know how dumb you sound? This rich lady’s gonna make it so you don’t grow up stupid, and you’re gonna complain? You wanna get cheated cuz you can’t read? Or get cheated cuz you don’t know nothing about nothing bigger than a dime? Get your heads outta your asses!”

“Jack,” said Denton quietly.

Jack put up his hands. “Sorry, fellas. What I mean to say is, you got an opportunity here to get smart, right? You guys can do better. I’ll teach you everything I know, then Denton’s gonna teach you everything he knows, and we’ll figure out which of you fellas already knows stuff and who don’t. But if we wanna stay here, this is the deal from Mrs. Colfax. The choice is yours. Are we gonna show her we’re smart and take the deal, or show her we’re dumb and get kicked outta here?”

The boys were silent. Rope lifted his hand. “Yeah, Rope, what,” said Jack.

“I’m staying,” he said. “Jack’s right, boys.” 

Romeo stood up. “I’m gonna stay. And I’ll read better’n you, Jack.”

Jack snorted. “That ain’t hard. You better try to read better’n Denton here.”

Romeo looked at Denton, narrowing his eyes. Denton stared back, his face expressionless. “I can do that,” Romeo declared.

Denton grinned and held out his hand for Romeo to shake. “You’re on.”

Spot leaned in the doorway, shaking his head, not believing his eyes. Little Jack, running his own place, and teaching kids how to read. He thought back to the half frozen kid he’d seen in the newsie lodge, and how he’d planned how fast he could find Jack a coat. Jack who’d been sent to Pulitzer’s, Oscar’s favorite target. Jack’s escape, taking him over to Ben’s place. And now look at him. These kids would come around, for sure. Jack might not have won the strike, but he knew how to pull kids together if he had to. Jack started yelling, and Spot’s attention turned to movement among the older kids. Gummy was shaking his head and slowly moving back out of the crowd. Where did he think he was going, Spot wondered. Gummy stood up at the last second and tried to slip by Spot.

Spot took Gummy’s sleeve. “Kitchen,” Spot whispered. Gummy gave him a resigned look and followed Spot to the kitchen.

”What gives? What’s the problem?” Spot asked, pointing at a kitchen chair. Gummy sat while Spot moved to the chair across from him. Gummy looked out the window.

“What, can’t read? So what? Half them kids can’t read yet,” said Spot.

“Yeah, but I’m almost old enough to leave here,” Gummy replied. “I ain’t gonna sit with no six-year-old and read little kid stories. Guess I gotta leave sooner’n I thought, huh.”

Spot sighed. “I learned how to read when Denton taught me. He...” Careful, Spotty. “I was grown. Just the past couple of years.”

Gummy looked at him, startled. Spot laughed. “He’d read the newspaper and I’d follow along. I didn’t like it much, but it’d be better than kiddie stories, wouldn’t it? I still ain’t that good, but I know some. I can get you started.” Gummy was silent. “Listen, I can ask Jack if you can be here in the kitchen with me, and I’ll teach you here for a little while, and we’ll read the pape, okay? If some of them older boys like you wanna come join us, that’s okay with me too. Whaddaya say, Gummy.” 

Spot watched carefully as Gummy considered and finally agreed. Jack wouldn’t mind, he was sure of that. But for crying out loud, Spotty, don’t tell them that’s how you learned to read in prison, he reprimanded himself. That ain’t good for morale.

He opened his mouth to send Gummy back to Jack’s meeting, and heard Jack and Katherine’s bedroom door open. Katherine emerged, her face pale. Spot leaped up from his chair as she came toward him. “Kath, you all right?”

“Spot, find Jack,” she said leaning forward, one hand on her abdomen, one on the table. “Find Jack now.”

Spot shot a look to Gummy. “Get the doctor. Now!” Gummy watched Katherine, eyes wide. “Move!” Gummy backed slowly to the door, then turned and fled.

Spot guided Kath to the chair Gummy had been sitting in. “You good?” Kath shut her eyes and nodded, holding her breath. Spot ran into the big room where Jack was talking with Denton and some of the boys as the meeting broke up. “Jacky,” he said quietly. 

Jack glanced over at him. “Just a sec,” he said. “We’re still counting who can read good.”

“Jacky, you can do that later. Kath’s gonna have the baby.”

“I know she’s gonna have a baby, Spot. I had something to do with that.” Jack grinned at him.

“I mean now. I think the baby is coming now. I sent Gummy for the doctor.” Spot watched Jack’s face.

Jack paled. “Now? It’s not due for a few more weeks.” Denton reached for Jack’s shoulder. Jack shook him off. “Kath?! Kath!!” 

“In the kitchen,” Spot said. Jack barreled into the kitchen, pushing boys out of his way. Spot made his way over to Denton. “I’ll get the boys upstairs,” he said. “Can you keep Jack in check?” Denton nodded and headed for the kitchen.

“Everyone upstairs,” ordered Spot. “Don’t go wandering nowhere, understand? I’ll be up soon.” He watched the rest of the boys go upstairs before finally turning to Race and Charlie, the only two left. “Charlie, can you stay?”

“For a while,” said Charlie. “I got animals to take care of. But I’ll stay for a while. Race can stay.”

“Thanks, boss,” said Race. “I’d quit if you didn’t let me stay.” Race shook his head. “Who’d a seen this, hm? Our Jacky, a father.”

“He’s dumb as a box of rocks, but he’ll be a fucking good father,” said Spot. “If he screws this up, I’ll kill him like I killed his old man, so help me God.”

“Amen,” said Race. He put his arm around Spot and kissed his forehead. “Amen, brother Spot. Spoken like a true friend.”


	40. The Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: brief mention of death during childbirth, and stillborn babies. Not graphic, but I do completely understand that this can be traumatic to read about. Please skip if you need to. Summary: Jack and Kath's baby is born.

Another scream filled the air, and the littles jumped. “It’s okay,” said Spot. “All ladies do that when they have a baby.” Their terrified looks told him he wasn’t doing a good job of making them feel better. 

“You ever seen a baby born?” asked Harry. “I did. The baby was a girl, but she died. My mama died too.”

Spot’s smile vanished. “Yeah. That’s rough.” Harry started to cry. “Hey, now...” he said weakly. He’d seen a girl die in childbirth too, but that didn’t seem like the right thing to say. And he wasn’t about to make promises about Jack and Kath’s baby. Fuck. 

He got up and went to the bigger boys’ room, where they were all sitting nervously on their bunks, not talking. “Hey, fellas, come on in with the littles. I’ll be back in two minutes.” The older boys jumped up and practically ran toward the littles’ room, leaving Spot to follow them down the hall. “See how many littles you can lift at once or something. Anything.” Another scream from downstairs. “And Finch, sit with Harry, yeah?”

Spot leaped down the stairs and raced down the street to Denton’s place. He didn’t care what Denton would say. He flung open Denton’s trunk and grabbed the papers, racing back to the lodge as fast as he could. Skipping steps, he thundered back into the littles’ room, out of breath and smiling to see Harry dangling by his knees down Finch’s back, giggling. Finch held Harry’s ankles and swung him back and forth, getting Harry to shriek with laughter.

“Okay, okay, enough of that,” said Spot, holding up the sheaf of papers. “Settle down. I got something here you fellas is gonna like.”

Denton sat on the steps out of sight of the upstairs bedrooms. The doctor threw everyone out of Jack and Kath’s room upon his arrival, leaving Race, Charlie and Denton standing in the kitchen looking at each other. They’d take turns each hour, they decided. Two in the kitchen, one on break. Sleep, read, step outside, go upstairs. Denton started upstairs on his break, stopping halfway when he heard the familiar sound of Spot reading out loud. He went up one more step to hear what he was reading, his hand tightening on the rail as he recognized his stories. Spot had no right... He hadn’t even asked! Those were private, so private. He fought every nerve telling him to go up there and snatch the stories away from Spot. He waited. The boys were listening. Were they disgusted? Did they like them?

A deeper voice cut in, one of the older boys. “What’s wrong with that lady? How come she talks like that? What’s a thee?”

Spot’s voice answered. “She’s a queen. That’s how she talks. Thee means you in queen talk. Now be quiet and listen.”

A younger voice this time. “Where’s his dog?”

“His dog didn’t come with him,” said Spot.

“He’ll be lonely. Who’s gonna play with him?”

“He’ll be fine. He’ll find someone else to play with.”

“I had a dog!” Another voice chimed in. “His name was Digger cuz he liked to dig.”

“Doesn’t the man in the story miss his dog? I’d miss my dog if I had one.”

“I dunno. I guess...” said Spot helplessly.

Denton chuckled to himself and pulled himself up the rest of the stairs. “Sounds like I have some plot holes to fill in, huh, Spot.”

Spot whirled around. “Denton, they was scared, so I thought...”

“It’s okay, Spot. Who wants to hear the author read the story?” Denton asked. 

“Anybody but Spot,” said Gummy. “Gee whiz.” Another scream rose through the floorboards. Gummy gulped. “Sorry, Spot. You did good.”

Denton took the papers from Spot and settled down on the floor near the door. “Where were we?” Spot pointed to the place he had stopped. “Okay. So let’s see what happens next. And let’s pretend he brought his dog so we don’t worry about that any more, all right?”

Jack felt the sweat dripping down his back, soaking his shirt. He paced so much the doctor almost threw him out too, but Katherine would not permit it. He didn’t care when the doctor said not to take her hand, and wished that the fresh bruises she left on his hand could take away her pain. The sips of water didn’t seem like near enough for him to give to her. He wiped her forehead with the cloth, which seemed to help her a little, but still, her screams nearly tore him in half.

Time faded in and out as the night went on. There was no going back now, he thought. Get ready, Kelly. What if she don’t make it, he thought, panicked. His kid wouldn’t have a chance without her. He wiped her face again as she strained and pushed. Hours passed. 

As the night began to end, Kath gave her final push, and Jack stood in amazement as a baby appeared. The doctor was quiet as he cleaned the baby and cut the cord, and at long last a healthy cry came out. Kath started to cry. Jack stood next to her and watched the doctor wrap up the baby. Still the doctor was quiet.

“Well?” Jack finally asked.

“It’s a boy,” said the doctor, unenthusiastically, handing the wrapped baby to Jack.

Jack bent over Kath, handing the baby to her as gently as he could. Their son. “Did you hear that, Kath? A boy. Look at him. Look how handsome he is.”

The doctor packed up his things. “He’s not right, you should know. And he’s small, coming early like he did.”

“What do you mean, not right?” Kath whispered. She started to unwrap the baby, examining him. She drew in her breath. “Oh, Jack.” Jack looked down inside the little blanket. He looked again. It was as if someone had erased one little arm below the elbow. The other arm was there, but the hand. Something wasn’t right. Jack counted. Four fingers? Three fingers and a thumb?

Jack looked angrily up at the doctor. “He’s perfect. Don’t you ever say he ain’t right ever again.”

“Come work out your bill with me this week, Jack,” said the doctor. “See you soon.” He put on his hat and left, Jack glaring at him.

Jack came back over to Kath. “It’s my fault, Kath. I didn’t get you to the doctor enough. I shoulda gotten better food for you. I coulda worked more, so you didn’t have to work so long. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry...” He took the baby’s hand and kissed it.

Kath sank back in her pillow. “It’s not your fault.” She held their baby close, gazing into his eyes. “He is perfect. Just like you said.”

“What’s his name, Kath?” Jack asked. “We never really decided.”

“Not Joseph,” she said.

“No, not Joseph,” he smiled. “How about we name him after you?”

Kath looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled. “Ben. Ben is perfect. Charlie will be so proud.” She closed her eyes. "I need to sleep, Jack."

Jack wrapped Ben up and brought him into the kitchen. Denton and Charlie lifted their heads from the table, groggily focusing on Jack. “Where’s Spot?” asked Jack. “He needs to be here too.” Spot appeared in the doorway, his eyes baggy.

Jack tried to smile, but ended up half sobbing and half smiling. “I have a son,” said Jack, laughing a little, the tears building up in his eyes. “This is Ben.”

Denton and Spot came over to look as Charlie stayed at the table. “Is that okay?” Jack asked Charlie, as Denton and Spot cooed. Charlie hesitated.

“Charlie,” said Jack, “I’m begging you.” He felt some tears come down his cheeks, but didn’t dare shift his hold on Ben.

“It’s a good name,” said Charlie. He wiped at his eyes and got up to come see Ben as Denton put his arm around Jack's shoulders.

Jack loosened the blanket so they could all see Ben’s arms. He waited for Charlie to notice and met his eyes when he did. “He’s perfect, ain’t he,” said Jack.

Charlie smiled. “Perfect like his Uncle Charlie.” He came in closer and touched Ben's cheek. "Hey, little fella. Don't you worry. You'll be smart like me and Grandpa Ben."

Jack's heart swelled up fast as he remembered his last conversation with Charlie's grandpa. Jack felt his hand on his head again, how he'd felt Grandpa Ben's love sink into him in a way he'd never felt before, gentle and complete. That's how he'd hold his son Ben, always, he swore to himself. Jack bowed his head and sobbed, holding his son tight.


	41. First Days

Jack gazed adoringly at Kath as she fed Ben. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. Katherine laughed at him watching her, running her fingers through Jack’s hair as he sprawled in their bed next to her. Ben thumped his short arm against Kath’s breast, wanting more.

Jack starting laughing too. “Slow down, big man,” he said. “Don’t need to be rude.”

He cradled Ben’s head with his hand, wondering at his tiny body, his vigor, and his sweet little face when he finally fell asleep. Jack gently took Ben into his arms, not ever wanting to sleep again, yet wanting nothing more than to sleep. He bent his head to kiss Kath gratefully.

“Kath,” he whispered, “you still think he’s perfect, right?”

”Of course, darling,” she said. “No baby has ever been as perfect as ours.”

Jack hovered his hand over Ben’s head. “You don’t think...” he stopped. This was not any way to think. Just let Kath sleep. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll watch him.”

“I don’t think what,” she said.

“I was just thinking, you know, when I was born, did my folks know I’d grow up to be a convict,” he said softly. “Did my mama see me going to jail as a kid. Did my dad look at me and say I was worth five years of his time, but nothing more.”

Kath fell silent. “No, Jack. I won’t believe that. And I know you’re not thinking that about Ben. My Jack,” she said, putting her hand on his arm, “my Jack is going to change all that.” Jack nodded dumbly. Yes. He would. He knew he would.

Spot glared at the boys. “Jack said you can come see Ben if you want. If you ain’t seen a baby this little, they ain’t always pretty. Ben’s face is all red. But you fellas is gonna tell Jack he’s the best baby you ever seen, got it?” The boys nodded.

“And another thing,” said Spot, pointing at them. “Ben’s missing half an arm, and the other hand looks a little off. I hear one word, one whisper about Stumpy, or crip, or anything I don’t like, you might end up missing an arm of your own. You say anything that makes Kath cry, you ain’t staying here no more. Any questions?” The boys shook their heads. “Get in line and act like you know how to behave.”

Gummy told Jack how nice the baby was, then waited for Romeo before taking off for the carriage house. It wasn’t quite done since Ben had come early, but he wanted to show it to Kath anyway. They each took an end and brought it to the kitchen door.

“Could we please see Katherine,” Gummy asked Jack politely. He’d practiced saying it right about thirty times. Finch said he sounded good.

“No way,” Jack scowled, blocking the doorway.

“Let them in, Jack,” Kath called. “It’s all right.” Jack kept scowling as they brought the sack-covered lump into their bedroom and set it on the floor with a thump.

“It ain’t quite done,” Gummy said. “We’ll finish it today once we get done at work.” He motioned to Romeo to uncover it. Kath gasped in surprise, which made Gummy smile about as much as he ever did.

“How beautiful,” she said, trying to catch Gummy’s eye.

“We still gotta sand it,” he muttered. “It ain’t that good.”

Jack knelt next to the cradle and rocked it back and forth. “I didn’t know you could do this, Gummy.”

Gummy shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just picked it up, I guess. You don’t gotta keep it. It’s good kindling if you don’t like it. Anyway, Romeo and me gotta get to work.”

“Gummy,” said Kath, but Gummy left without looking back. Romeo ran over to the bed and flung his arms around Kath.

“Be careful,” said Jack, “careful!” Romeo planted a kiss on Kath’s forehead and ran past Jack to catch up with Gummy.

Kath watched Jack rock Ben as she tried to fall asleep, the tiny bundle hardly as long as his forearm. She pulled the blanket off, relieved not to be so hot anymore, and quietly reached for her glass of water, hoping Jack wouldn’t notice. She motioned for him to sit down as he started to get up to hand her the glass. He reluctantly sat back down and gazed back down at Ben. She wished she could tell her father about Ben, but didn’t dare tell Jack that. A maid would be handy, she had to admit, but she also had to admit that Spot and Denton had stepped in admirably. Who knew Spot knew how to change a diaper? He’d educated Jack effectively in that area. She gulped down her entire glass of water and half of a second glass before lying down again, her head aching. She closed her eyes as she heard the bedroom door creak open.

“Jacky?” Race whispered. “Can I hold him?” Jack must’ve motioned for Race to come in, because she could hear him creep across the floor. Her abdomen was so sore. Steady breathing, Kath. Just rest. How did women do this more than once, she wondered.

“He’s so small,” Race said wonderingly.

“‘S how they come, Racetrack,” said Jack.

“You mad about the arm?”

“Nah,” said Jack. “Remember Stumpy? I didn’t wanna mess with him, did you? You and me, we’ll make sure Ben can take care of himself.”

“Sure.” Race was quiet for a moment. “Stumpy had a knife, though. You gonna give Ben a knife?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna hand my baby a knife,” said Jack. “Thought I’d wait till tomorrow, though.” Kath could hear the grin in his voice. “I won’t have to give him nothing, Race. Just think what kind of weapons Charlie’s gonna give him. Christ Almighty.”

They were silent as they pondered those possibilities. 

“‘S gonna be different for him, ain’t it, Jacky,” said Race softly.

“Fuck yes,” said Jack. 

Another minute of silence passed by. Kath could feel herself start to drift off to sleep.

“Race,” said Jack.

“Hm.”

“Anything happens to me, you gotta watch out for him, yeah? Don’t go nowhere,” Jack asked.

“Anything happens to you, he’s gonna be the best poker player in the West thanks to me,” said Race. “We’ll get a con going and make a lot of money.”

“Gimme back my kid,” said Jack. “He don’t like you.”

“He loves me,” said Race. “He said I’m more fun than you. Can’t wait to learn them knife tricks.”

“Get outta here,” said Jack, reaching for Ben. “Quit ruining my son.”

Race handed Ben back to Jack and rubbed the top of Jack’s head. “Sleep good, kid. See you tomorrow.”


	42. Don’t Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which turn of the century life sucks for everyone. Stay with me, folks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work. But posting anyway cuz I wrote the damn thing and I like writing.

Kath awoke in the middle of the night, her abdomen burning. She reached for Jack, only to find his side of the bed empty. She was so hot. So very hot. Slowly, painfully, she rolled over to look into the cradle. Ben lay still, sound asleep. Despite her pain, she smiled to see Jack asleep on the floor, his wrist draped over the side of the cradle. She vomited. 

Jack sat up. Something was off. He was on the floor because... he felt fine, though. He wasn’t drunk. He was in the Refuge, then. No, he wasn’t. He felt fine. He grabbed the side of the cradle, finally remembering where he was. He reached into the cradle, relieved to feel Ben’s little breath on his hand. That stench, though. The stench wasn’t from him. He heard Kath moan and saw the vomit on the floor.

“Kath?! Kath?” He panicked. No one said she would do this. He felt for her, her burning forehead grazing his hand as he felt for her. 

“Jack,” She groaned. “It hurts...”

Jack jumped up and ran to the kitchen, grabbing Spot’s stash of whiskey. He opened it, racing back into the bedroom. “Here, get some of this down. It’ll help.” Kath swallowed and gasped, sputtering. “That good? Here, sit up a bit.” He propped her up and tried to give her some more. She shook her head, leaned over the edge of the bed, and vomited again.

“Doctor,” she said hoarsely. Jack hesitated. He already owed Dr. Ogden so much. Throwing up wasn’t something you got the doctor for. But Kath wouldn’t say that if she didn’t mean it. He felt her again. She really was hot. Ben started to cry. Which one should he go to? Jack scrambled around to the cradle and picked Ben up, swaying from side to side as he tried to think.

“Okay, Kath. Okay. Just wait one sec.” He pushed his feet into his boots. He shouldn’t take Ben into the cold, but Kath was in no condition to hold him. Ben screamed louder. Okay. Okay. He grabbed Ben’s little blanket from the cradle and wrapped him up tight before running with him out to the carriage house.

“Spot! Race! I gotta get the doctor! One of you’s has to watch Ben,” he shouted up the ladder. He kicked the ladder, making Ben scream even louder. “Race!” He started up the ladder as Spot peered down. “Here, take him. Kath’s real sick.” Spot reached down for the now hysterical baby, and Jack took off, the cold burning his lungs as he ran.

Jack held onto the door frame as he pounded on the door, heaving to catch his breath. Running was one thing, but running in the cold when you haven’t slept for a couple of days was something else entirely, he thought. A light came on from the house. Jack tried to straighten up, gulping more air. The door opened and Jack tried to collect himself.

“It’s Kath, Dr. Ogden. Please.” He gave up and leaned over his knees. It was better not to see Dr. Ogden’s displeased look anyway. “She’s real sick.” He turned his head to look up at the doctor. “Please come.”

“Sullivan,” started Dr. Ogden. “Not again.”

Jack ran his hand over his face. “Please, Dr. Ogden. Please come.” His breath came out in enormous clouds as Dr. Ogden frowned at him. “Kath asked for you. It ain’t me asking. She’s real hot and she got sick all over. She can’t hardly move.”

Dr. Ogden sighed. “You already owe me for her last two visits, Sullivan, and the birth. And Frankie’s broken arm from two months ago. And Finch’s stitches. And now this.”

“Yes, sir, I know. I’ll get it to you, I promise. But please, please come now,” Jack pleaded. 

“Hugh? Who is it?” Jack guessed that was Mrs. Ogden.

“It’s Jack Sullivan, dear. Go back to sleep. Everything’s all right.” Dr. Ogden turned back to Jack. “I’ll get dressed and come soon. Go home and tell her I’ll be there.”

“Tell him to pay his bills,” the voice came again as Dr. Ogden shut the door. Jack shivered and ran his hands up and down his arms. Wouldn’t it be faster if he just waited to ride with Dr. Ogden. He’d probably charge him for that, Jack thought. He took another gasp of the cold air and ran for home.

“Get off that bed, Sullivan,” Dr. Ogden growled. “You’ll infect her. You probably already have. Look at this place.” Jack backed away from Kath, still trying to hold her hand as he got off the bed. He watched the examination. Not much more than he had done, actually. 

“She’s got the fever,” Dr. Ogden said abruptly. “Best to make her comfortable. Cool her down if you can.” He snapped his bag shut. “Come see me about your bills soon.”

Jack stared as Dr. Ogden left. “Wait!” he shouted, following him outside. “Whaddaya mean, make her comfortable?”

Dr. Ogden paused as he settled into his seat. “I’ve seen this over and over with new mothers, especially those who are in less fortunate circumstances. Many women die of fever, Jack. Some don’t. There’s not much I can do at this point. She’ll either pull through or she won’t. I’m sorry. Come get me if anything changes. I have my regular rounds this morning, but Mrs. Ogden will know where I am.”

Jack stood watching the doctor go. Kath had “the fever”? He knew some women died giving birth, of course. But now? She’d been fine. How could she die now? She couldn’t leave them. She couldn’t. No one would ever love Ben the way she did. He staggered backwards before grabbing the kitchen door handle and going back in. 

“Kath?” he asked quietly, entering the bedroom. His mind was blank. He didn’t dare think too hard. It would break his mind, like he was thinking in a glass bottle. “You thirsty? You still hot?” Kath moaned, her hair and pillow soaked with sweat. Jack sat on the edge of the bed, dipped a cloth into her glass of water, and wiped at her face. She lay still.

“Kath, don’t go,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave us. Please, I’ll do anything. Please don’t leave us.” He wiped at her face again. He lifted her nightshirt over her head and began cooling her chest down with the cloth. “Don’t leave me, Kath.”

A life without her began to ripple through this head. Stop, Kelly. He kept cooling her down, going to the kitchen for more water, startling when he saw Spot sitting in there with Ben. Jack didn’t say anything as he filled a bowl with water. Spot watched him silently as Ben sucked on Spot’s finger. Jack went back into the bedroom without looking at Ben.


	43. Jack Kelly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure this is it, folks, unless you have loose ends/plot holes you want me to fill in.

Oliver Colfax watched Jack take a second wallet as he helped a passenger into a waiting carriage. Jack was a pretty good thief, he had to admit. But then, it took one to know one, even if it had been decades. He sighed.

"Oh, Oliver, no," said Amelia. "It couldn't be. Not that sweet young man. You're just hoping for a big story to help your sales." She rested her book in her lap as she looked across at him.

Oliver sat back, crossed his legs, and held up the letter. "We'd have known sooner if I'd gotten Joseph's first letters. It makes sense, doesn't it? Kathleen, Katherine. You didn't mishear anything. Sullivan, Kelly. Irish as can be. Kathleen knew a lot about a household like ours, yet needed help learning basic tasks. She was a quick study to be sure, but even you commented on that."

Amelia shook her head. "What are the chances, really. Joseph sent those letters to newspapers all across the country. His daughter could be anywhere, and those are very common names. She's not likely the one who was scrubbing our foyer."

"Jack's working at the station again, did you know that? Against your express orders. And he's a thief, Amelia. I saw him taking wallets the other night. That fits too, doesn't it? Joseph is very clear about his criminal past." Oliver sat forward. "I know what I saw, Amelia."

Amelia sat quietly for a moment. "Let's say you are right. Why would we tell Joseph? What good would it do to turn Jack in? I never liked Joseph, and if his daughter ran away from the life he could give her, it was probably for good reason."

"The rule of law is fundamental to a functioning society, yes? If Jack is who I think he is, he still has a sentence to complete. And what a scoop I’d have, that’s true."

Amelia pointed her finger at Oliver. "Your childhood was hardly ideal, remember that. And he’s a father now. He's run the lodge very well, too, and you know it. The boys there work and they are learning to read at least a little before they leave, thanks to us."

"Two of them were in court last week," Oliver replied. "I reported it, remember? Are we really going to let a known criminal run the Colfax Home for Boys?"

"You are imagining things, Oliver. You need more adventure in your life. Go work on a ranch somewhere for a while, and leave Jack alone." Amelia picked up her book again.

"We have to talk to him," said Oliver. "At least talk to him." Amelia ignored him.

Jack took off his cap as the maid led him down the hall to Mr. Colfax's study. This had to be something new, and, knowing his luck, something bad. Mrs. Colfax was the one who talked to him about the lodge lately, and buying slates, and books; he couldn't remember saying anything other than "hello" to Mr. Colfax before. He tugged at his shirt and wished he'd polished his boots the way Denton had told him to. The maid knocked on the door as Jack began to sweat. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. Ben was a good baby, but that kid did not sleep.

"Come!"

The maid opened the door. "Mr. Sullivan, sir." She stood aside to let Jack in.

Jack tucked his hat into his back pocket and strode in. "Mr. Colfax, how you doing today," he said, grinning broadly, holding out his hand. "You looking to hire a newsie or two? I got a couple of new kids what need jobs."

Mr. Colfax walked over and shook Jack's hand. "Sit, Jack," he said, motioning to the chairs by the fireplace. Jack's grin froze as he walked stiffly to the chairs. He sat. The boys in court. It had to be. Stupid kids. He'd begged hard for them, promising they'd straighten out, a speech now familiar to both Jack and the judge. It usually worked, although the one boy was on very thin ice.

"I saw you working at the station the other night," said Mr. Colfax. "I thought Mrs. Colfax had expressly asked you to be at the lodge in the evenings, teaching the boys to read and whatnot."

Fuck. "Yes, sir, she did," said Jack. "And I do. I mean, we moved the time we do that a little earlier so I can catch the last two trains. I, uh, I owe Dr. Ogden. Mrs. Colfax pays me good," he added hurriedly. "I just need a little more to get Dr. Ogden off my back." He tried to smile a little. "He, uh, he been to the lodge a lot lately."

"Yes, I imagine so," said Mr. Colfax, not unkindly. "You make a lot of money at the station, then, Jack?"

What the fuck was this. Jack looked away briefly before meeting Mr. Colfax's eyes. "I make enough."

"You ever think about going back to New York, Jack?"

Jack felt an electric shock go through him. His heart started pounding as he tried to wrap his head around what Colfax was getting at. "Nah. I like it out here. Guess I still sound like I’m from New York, yeah?" 

"Indeed you do. I've never been there. Tell me about it."

His mouth went dry. New York. Colfax. Newspapers. Something was going on. "It's great. Best city in the world."

"That's where you met Kathleen?"

"Yes, sir."

"How did you meet?"

Jack cleared his throat. "You don't my asking, Mr. Colfax, but what's this about? You firing me for working at the station? I'll quit. I'll find something else you like better, okay? It's just till I get my bill paid, if that matters."

"All of that depends. How did you and Kathleen meet?"

He gripped the arms of his chair and then released them. Answer the man, Kelly. You got a kid. "I was selling papes, you know, and she, uh, she seen me and started talking to me. Thought I was good looking, I guess," he said, trying to grin. So he skipped several months between "seen" and "talking." 

"Her last name was Pulitzer."

Jack let out a short bark of shock. “What? You must be dreaming, Mr. Colfax. Ain't no one named Pulitzer gonna marry a guy like me. You feeling all right, Mr. Colfax?” He felt his heart rise up into his throat, still pounding. His face was flushing. Fuck.

"Her name was Katherine Pulitzer and your name was Jack Kelly before you came here. You're an escaped convict. Tell me I am wrong." Mr. Colfax watched Jack intently.

"You're wrong." Jack set his jaw and leaned forward. "I got work to do. I'll quit working at the station, all right? Can I get back to the lodge now?"

"Certainly," said Mr. Colfax.

Jack yanked his cap out of his pocket and jammed it on his head. "Tell Mrs. Colfax I said hello." He turned on his heel and walked as fast as he dared out of the house. As he turned the corner he broke into a run.

He sat for a long time before speaking. "Kath, what do I do," he whispered, getting to his knees and folding his arms to warm his hands under his armpits. "Tell me what to do." He leaned forward and reached out to touch the crude wooden headstone. "Your father..." He felt the tears come once more. "Tell me what to do," he repeated. "I messed up, Kath. I started working at the station again, you know, for the doctor bills. I been stealing again. Some father I turned out to be, huh. Colfax seen me. He thinks he knows, Kath. I told him he was wrong but he knew I was lying. I'm going back to prison. Ben won't even remember me." He wiped the tears off his face and put his hands back under his armpits. "Ben's a good baby, Kath. Lucky he looks like you. Ain't ugly like his old man."

Jack raised his face and watched the gray clouds sweep across the sky. "But you know, if I go back, maybe your dad will take Ben. He'd have everything, Kath. A lot better than what I can do, for sure. Maybe that ain't such a bad deal after all. He never laid a finger on you. Ben would have everything. He'd go to them good schools, you know. He'd get some good job where missing an arm ain't a problem. I mean, it ain't like I'm gonna amount to much here anyway, not without you." He stopped, hearing someone enter the graveyard.

"Jacky," Spot called over. "Jack! You gotta come home. The Colfaxes is there."

"Where's Ben?" Jack shouted. "You was supposed to watch him!"

"Mrs. Colfax is watching him," Spot called back. Jack leaped up, almost losing his balance. He shoved Spot as he ran by, rubbing at his face. Could he not ever catch a break, he wondered.

Amelia rocked Ben, making faces at him as they sat by the fireplace. Such a pity about Kathleen. Katherine. Ben gurgled back up at her and reached for her face. He certainly seemed well cared for and alert. She got up and went over to the bedroom by the kitchen, peeking in.

"Amelia," scolded Oliver.

"Just seeing if the place is sanitary for a baby," she said. The small room was untidy. The lone blanket was crumpled on the bed, a shirt and pillow dropped on the floor. Kathleen's dresses still hung on the hook on the wall. A plain little cradle sat at an angle to the bed. Dust had gathered in the corners of the room. She backed out and sat back down with Oliver.

"Why did you insist on pursuing this," she asked him. "He's a good father. Look at this child, how bright he is," she said, tilting Ben towards him. “He’s clean and happy, obviously.”

Oliver opened his mouth to reply when Jack crashed through the door, followed by Spot a moment later. Amelia clutched at Ben, startled by Jack's appearance. This was not the lively young man she had seen with Kathleen, or even the distraught young man at the funeral. This young man surfaced from beneath those two, gaunt and haggard. His eyes had dark circles, and his shirt was stained and untucked. He reached for Ben with grimy hands without saying a word to Amelia. She handed him to Jack, watching as he checked Ben over before looking at the two of them.

"I’m sorry about the station, Mrs. Colfax. I'll get all my money to Dr. Ogden tomorrow," he said, moving his gaze to the floor. "I ain't got much more to pay him after that." He focused again on Ben and stroked his cheek with his finger.

Amelia cleared her throat. "Very well. But we do have to clear the air on one thing, Jack. Oliver here seems to think that you are someone else. I would appreciate it if we could get this question resolved. Are you in fact Jack Kelly, escaped convict?" She smiled as if she didn't believe of word of it, hoping Jack would play along.

Jack kept looking down at Ben, touching his face gently. He lifted his hand and ran his wrist under his nose before looking over at Spot. Spot's face had darkened.

“I don’t know no one named Jack Kelly,” said Jack. “What’s he done?”

“Don’t play games,” said Oliver. “You kidnapped Pulitzer’s daughter and you’ve been found out.”

“Jack Kelly kidnapped Pulitzer’s daughter,” Jack repeated, a trace of a smile on his face, once again focusing on Ben. “Did Katherine seem kidnapped to you?”

“Of course not,” said Amelia. “Oliver, enough.”

“That’s what Joseph said,” Oliver insisted. “A violent criminal abducted his daughter, and we’ve found them. Well, one of them.”

Spot snorted. “Violent criminal? What’d this fellow do?”

“He didn’t say,” said Oliver, indignant. “I take his word for it, as a gentleman.”

Amelia saw Jack lift his head. His voice was soft. “Like I said, I don’t know no one named Jack Kelly. My folks ditched me when I was little. I got sent to jail for throwing a rock a while after that. I got sent there again when I stole some food for me and for littler kids. And again when I stole some clothes when we was freezing. I probably got sent there six or seven times. I got beat good more times’n I can count. Till I couldn’t walk, most times. If you was bad, you got a beating instead of food. And I got sent to prison once, too.”

“Jack,” said Spot.

Jack waved him off. “If Jack Kelly got sent to prison the way you say, he probably looks a lot like me.” He handed Ben to Spot and pulled off his shirt, turning his back to the Colfaxes. Amelia gasped.

"Mr. Sullivan, dress yourself," commanded Oliver. "There is a lady present."

Jack didn't move. "Take a good look. This Jack Kelly you're looking for, this is what he looks like too, I bet." Amelia kept staring at Jack’s back. “This is what happens when you don’t break enough rocks in a day. I was seventeen. It’s what happens when you tell your boss your mama ain’t a whore the way he said she was.”

“Mr. Sullivan!” Oliver shouted. “Enough!”

Amelia felt sick.

“So let’s say you got lucky and found Jack Kelly,” said Jack, still facing away from her. “If he had a kid with this girl he kidnapped, what would happen to this kid?”

“He’d be raised by friends,” said Spot.

“He’d be raised by his grandfather, naturally,” said Oliver, a smile tugging at his lips.

“He’d be raised by his father,” said Amelia. She reached out and touched Jack’s shoulder. Jack flinched and snapped out of his haze. He looked down at himself and put his shirt back on, his face turning red. “If we ever found him, and he had a child, we would help him raise that child.”

Jack gazed at her as he spoke. “That right, Mr. Colfax?” Amelia put out her hand and rested it on Jack’s chest, patting him. Jack felt his tired face relax a touch.

“If that’s what Amelia wanted, then that’s what would happen,” said Oliver resignedly. “I’d be the first to know if you ever found this Jack Kelly, right? Our paper would want the story first.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jack, finally allowing himself a smile. “I’d be the first to help you sell your papes.”

Ben squeaked in Spot’s arms. Jack held out his arms for Spot to give him back. “But I don’t think I’m ever gonna meet a fella named Jack Kelly. Not ever.”


End file.
